


Today's Oatmeal

by inurclosets



Series: goats in trees [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Drug Withdrawal, Gen, Light BDSM, M/M, Nightmares, One-Sided Relationship, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Discussions, Sexual exploration, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 95,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inurclosets/pseuds/inurclosets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Commander always believed himself to be straight. A fan of softer lines and a softer face, a gentle smile and hands smaller than his own. He's never been told that's wrong except in the face of demons. So when the young Trevelyan, with his soft face and hard lines, gentle smile and hands the size of his own, confesses interest, Cullen finds himself questioning a few things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cinnamon Sticks

**Author's Note:**

> it's a terrible fear of mine to become invested in a work of fiction only to find it got dropped somewhere along the way. this is an even greater fear of mine when producing written works so i hope to update this slowly while trying to run with the inspiration i have presently to produce this piece. the more i write, the more i find i want to include.  
> this is not a smut driven piece. the rating is merely there for the segment that falls in at the end of the second chapter.  
> complimentary works will be included along side this one as it goes along. this is the first bigger piece i've written in awhile so i hope you all enjoy.

"I see, so you're not…"

"No, I suppose I'm not," He lowered his gaze, he could feel the disappointment coming off Trevelyan in waves. Cullen was afraid to look him in the eye for fear that it would somehow make it harder for them to work together. 

The other had been persistent for weeks, months even. Slowly edging in with quick comments that were more than enough to earn a blush on the Commander's cheeks but today he had asked. Whether he was looking or not, Trevelyan gave a nod of understanding, "I can respect that. You're a good commander, Cullen. We're lucky to have you."

He dared to look up now, Trevelyan was smiling, a slight sparkle to his eye, a gentle smile despite his otherwise hardened features.

"It would mean a lot to me if we could remain friends despite this. I don't want my advances or interest to change our relationship, unless I've made you uncomfortable. I hope I haven't. If I have then I will by all means maintain some distance," He began to ramble as Cullen put up a hand.

"I understand, Inquisitor," Cullen sighed, "And I would be grateful if we could remain friends as well." 

It wasn't the first time Cullen had to turn down the interest of another man, nor did he doubt it would be the last, though he never enjoyed it. He never took pride and shooting down the affections of another when he struggled so hard to ever voice his own.

It was admirable and he was ashamed that he would likely never be able to stand in that position. There was no confession the Commander could utter outside of those intended for the foot of Andraste's statue.

' _Maker, forgive me._ '

Trevelyan gave a nod, excusing himself from the office and making his way toward Leliana's tower. Frustration came over Cullen as the door closed. Even though the Inquisitor seemed in high enough spirits, he couldn't help but feel as though he had crushed something brilliant inside someone brilliant. He blamed himself as he slammed his fist atop his desk. The lyrium withdrawals did not aid in relinquishing his anger and fears. It bit and burned in his blood. He marched to the training dummies instead, hoping that he might be able to drive it off by testing his sword. 

* * *

 

It continued to be an intruding thought during their meetings both at the war table and away from it. He had hurt this man, even if it was unintentionally, even if the Inquisitor did not show it on his face. He remain relatively at ease. Perhaps he was experienced with rejection, Cullen didn't infer into the man's affairs enough to know for certain. He let his gaze remain heavy handed in their dealings together and despite his best efforts, the nature of their relationship had changed.

It was beginning to affect the other aspects of his day to day.  _Large hands, hard lines, gentle smile, gentle eyes_. It was an intruding thought, one he quickly replaced with s _ofter features, smaller hands_.   
A knock came early in the morning of an evening he hadn't slept. His head lifted to the door.

"Come in." 

"Commander," Dorian greeted him with a slight tilt of his head, "Good morning to you. Glad to know I wasn't the only person in Skyhold to pull an all-nighter though that part is purely coincidence. I was translating a most fascinating text for so long that I feel as though my eyes are about to fall out of their sockets so I little bird informed me you too may be requiring a break." 

Dorian appeared a bit scattered in his own train of thought, rambling about before getting to the point. A little bird, Leliana perhaps, Cullen mentally took note, glancing down at the scribble he had made on a piece of parchment trying to get his own thoughts in order, "I… Yes, It's very possible that I am."

"Fantastic, I also heard you play chess, is that correct?"

Cullen chuckled, "A little bit, yes."

"Then I have a proposal," Dorian smiled, features exemplified by his moustache, "We grab a quick bite to eat then make our way to Garden and play a game or two of chess. Sound fair?"

Cullen glanced down at the scribbled note and stroked out every line of legible text, "That sounds great."

"Excellent, let's get a move on then. If we're fast enough, we'll get a fresh meal and the quiet of the morning on our side."

 

...

 

Dorian proved to be most enjoyable company, one Cullen may have turned down had he been any less in need of a distraction from his own thoughts. The other was charming, quick of tongue and quick of wit, telling incredible stories of a land he had only heard spawn tragedies. It was insightful, and Dorian was aware enough that he would point out the own faults within his homeland. Aware enough to listen when Cullen brought up any questions and admit to not always knowing the answers. 

It was an intellectual conversation, one that kept Cullen's interest and engagement throughout. It opened him more to the idea of befriending mages, something he never thought himself capable after the circle.  
It gave him hope.

When the game finished, Cullen rose to his feet and offered to shake Dorian's hand, "Thank you Dorian, I needed that more than you know."

There was a sparkle in Dorian's eye that was similar to Trevelyan's, though Cullen dismissed it as his hand was grasped and shook in return, "You're welcome. Good game, Commander."

Days blended into weeks and weeks into several months since they arrived at Skyhold but time and time again, the two met for the occasional game. A simple unwinding to make the day proceed with far more ease, and shortly after the sun set, Cullen was always comfortably drowsy. A good thing, he decided, for he had managed to get far more done following the match than he had managed any evening prior. He retired to his loft, riding the first wave of slumber as it snatched him away from conscious thought. 

 _Soft hands, soft face, a gentle voice, gentle smile_ , "We could be together."  _A voice that sounded so sweet, so promising._  
_She had smiled at him and put his heart in a vice._  
_She held his face and kissed his cheek, lifted her skirt as she sat on his lap._  
"Even though I'm a mage, you know," S _he chuckled, biting her lip and casting a flirtatious gaze upon him._ Cullen felt his heart stir with excitement amongst other things.  
_She leaned forward, a cruel whisper in his ear_ , "Don't let me go. _Don't leave me._ "  
_She hummed a faint song of lyrium, pricking his skin and forcing it through his veins._

Desire was the cruelest demon for hanging an apple in front of his face and just out of reach.

Rage was the cruelest demon for taking that away, for crushing it before his eyes and leaving the blood on his hands.

Despair was the cruelest demon for forcing him to lament, for making him believe the cause for that bloodshed was entirely of his own will and blade. 

Fear was the cruelest demon for making his actions mean nothing, even now he would never amount to anything. He had failed the order, he had failed his Knight-Commander, the ones he loved and the people he swore to protect.  
He couldn't get the barrier up fast enough, he couldn't protect anyone. He wasn't strong enough, he needed lyrium.

  
He woke up gasping, sweat drenching his sheets and skin, tears pricking his eyes as everything he ever wanted twisted in his head into everything he hated and feared. He couldn't sleep any longer. It was still dark, the stars gleamed faintly through the ceiling and even with the cold air all around him, he felt as though his body was surely on fire.  
The sheets were cast off as he grasped his garments and started for the baths. He fought the craving that burned inside his skin and crawled over ever facet of thought.

_What if…_

_What if…._

**_What if….._**  

He tried to scrub the sensation out of his skin until every inch of was raw and red from the effort, burning in a different way, a physical sensation that stung as the water moved around him. It was distraction enough for now.  
He dressed the injury he applied to himself in a way that was certain to keep it from infection but still be present enough that he could still be reminded of the physical over his internal need. His hands shook as pulled up his breeches and fit his armour to his form. No one would know, no one could see it.

He proceeded about his day as usual, taking more time to remain physically active once the sun finally rose up.

Trevelyn called to the war table but once that day for simple clarification of objectives and tasks that could be tackled in the time of his absence. A trek to the Hinterlands seemed to be on the Inquisitor's agenda, which gave Cullen time to organize his thoughts far more neatly when it came to his concerns with their present relation.  
They were gone a week and despite Cullen's intention to spend that time organizing his thoughts and completing his duties, he found himself sliding down a dangerous slope instead. The cravings intensified, so he tried harder to distract himself.

Spending his time with Cassandra seemed like an adequate course of action.

"It's getting worse," He uttered under his breath. 

"What is?" She seemed oblivious to it though he couldn't imagine how, he had practically scrubbed off the skin on his forearms, which he then remembered she couldn't see.

"My withdrawal," He hissed, eyes scanning the room to ensure no one was listening. He felt as if all eyes should have been on him yet none were. He half wanted to stand up and scream so everyone would know he was suffering, but he remained composed, pressed in his seat and concentrated on holding a private conversation in public. 

Cassandra seemed caught off by his confession, "Yet, I have not seen any change in your work habits. You are as productive as ever."

"You should replace me."

"I will not," There was a firmness to her tone that insisted that if he were to argue further then it would not end in his favour, so he dropped it.

"I think they added cinnamon to today's oatmeal."

Cassandra returned to her own bowl, tasting it with the sentiment in mind, "It is subtle, yes, but I believe you are correct." 

"Did the kitchen staff inform everyone? I believe we have a few here that may be allergic," Cullen poked at the food as he voiced concerns about something else.

"Please, just eat your oatmeal, Cullen. I will inform the kitchen staff to make a daily menu if it is such a concern." 

"…Thank you," He muttered, scooping up the meal and shovelling it into his mouth. The taste of cinnamon lingered on his tongue all day, distracting in a pleasant way. It reminded him of his mother's cookies, giving him a sort of grounding to cope with the desire in his head. He went through his letters and set aside the few that the Inquisitor may be interested in reviewing along with supplies requested by the soldiers. Armor, bedding, blankets. Josephine could handle some but others required crafting from raw materials. The list complete, he took a walk, half craving another game of chess but knowing Dorian had ventured out with the Inquisitor this time as well, left his hands open with nothing to do, so he took to visiting Varric instead.

 

* * *

 

A seven day venture and six nights, the Inquisitor returned with The Iron Bull, Dorian, and the spirit boy, Cole, in tow. Their clothes appeared singed, burnt, and a a little dishevelled from one member to the next. Their expressions varied far more gallantly. The Inquisitor seemed to be in a state of utter amazement, The Iron Bull was grinning like he had just won the greatest prize, Dorian looked exhausted to the point that joy could never be found again, and Cole appeared as he always did whenever he actually appeared to Cullen, distant and shielded by an incredibly large hat.

It didn't take long after their arrival for the news to spread. They had defeated a dragon, cleared out a nest, Cullen assumed the group would need the evening to recover at the very least and did not press for attendance with the Inquisitor at the war table.  
He would greet him in the morning instead.

"Sorry to disturb you rest, Inquisitor but our fortif--"

He glanced up at the wrong time. Half his thought being that he had wandered into the wrong room entirely but he heard the reports of where the Inquisitor was last seen entering and while it was hardly his own chambers, it was a room with a bed no less. There was just no way Cullen was prepared for the sight that greeted him, "Oh, sweet Maker!"

His gaze was fixed, desperately attempting to piece together what he was seeing. Hard lines, sculpted body. Naked body.  _Naked body._

Whatever words Bull had uttered, Cullen did not comprehend. His attention was only pulled away when Josephine entered.  _Soft face, soft figure, **not**  naked_. Safe.

"I-I-… am so sorry," He stammered, doing his best to keep his gaze fixed away from hard lines, naked body. Josephine evidently in a similar situation did not shy from the sight. Gaze transfixed, Cullen wondered how she wasn't the least bit bashful at times, but then he recalled that one story concerning small clothes and a chantry board and brushed the thought aside.

"I cannot move my legs." 

"Is something the matter-Ah!" Cassandra had wandered in on the open door as well. One after another, Cullen couldn't help but grin at the chain of events unfolding with his own miscalculation. 

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Bull cursed as Cullen's eyes darted back then away.

Cassandra's mouth was agape, agape long enough for her to gather some sense of self to direct a question to Cullen, "Do you see this?"

"No." He replied quick and short. Perhaps too quick. He definitely saw a lot more than he intended.

It certainly cleared up one thing though, even if the Inquisitor was not interested in pursuing a serious relationship with Bull, he was certainly interested in men.  
_Hard lines, large hands._

Cullen studied his face in the mirror after that.

 _Hard lines, hard eyes, stubble, calloused hands._  He didn't really understand how anyone could truly find such features attractive, but surely some did.

"Attempting to steal my title as most vain, Commander?" Dorian's voice rang from the door, entering slow as to not catch the man off guard, "Or are you simply scrutinizing your own looks?"

"I was thinking I'm in near need of a shave," Cullen diverted, making light of the situation as he turned to Dorian who appeared far more rested and in better spirits than he had the day past, "Here for a game?"

"If you wouldn't mind. There's nothing quite like getting one's mind off the unfathomable scent of flaming dragon dung than some chess."

Cullen couldn't help but agree.

Their games always provided some insight to the working of Dorian's mind. When he cheated, which was frequently enough, it was very rarely to actually place him in the lead, but rather to draw Cullen's mind back to the game when it began to wander. Each time Dorian moved a piece in a manner that was against the rules so to speak, it seemed to serve some sort of ulterior purpose. Very rarely did it seem as though Dorian ever actually played to win. Cullen never pointed out, eager to win even with the handicap.

"Did you have many friends back in Tevinter?" Cullen asked as he planned his next move.

His question caught Dorian by surprise, "Curious why you ask, but yes, I suppose I had a few. Felix was a grand friend of mine until his passing. I seldom had little time for friends in my youth, though there was some here and there. My family's servants mostly."

"And no…?" Cullen left off the end simply so Dorian could infer his own ending and take it which ever direction he pleased.

"My parents wished me to carry on my family's name, so while I did have many occasions in which I was to court a young woman, none of them appealed if simply due to circumstance, but also because of the other thing."

"Other thing?" Cullen repeated as wheels in his head spun, not catching the track he was meant to jump onto in order to progress the conversation.

"My interest in men. I certainly thought that was of no mystery given how many of these games we've played, Commander," Dorian gave him a quaint look, "Rest assured, I will make no advances unless your interest is explicit. Flirting though, there's always exceptions for flirting." 

Color rose to Cullen's cheeks, wondering why he hadn't put it together sooner. Dorian did always seem to enjoy banter, specially suggestive if sometimes crude in nature but it was always enjoyable and sometimes Cullen even returned the ball to Dorian's court. It seemed all in good fun but now he was fretting just the slightest bit.

"It's your move," Dorian reminded him, prying his mind from thoughts that didn't need exploring. Not at the moment.

He took a deep breath in, letting it out slow as he eyed the board and moved his rook, "And so it's been made."

Dorian gave him a smile, "And a good move it was. For me. _Check._ "

He removed the Commander's piece, setting it aside for the time being, "So, Cullen, what of you? As much as I do love to share petty details of my own life, you grew up in Ferelden. The Chantry save you from parents trying to court you off to some noble's daughter?"

"I would think so," He chuckled, "Though I hardly think I would have minded quite as much. Cassandra tells me it is a trying experience."

"That's not even the half of it," Dorian snarked, before allowing Cullen to continue.

"I suppose it depends on the nature of how one was raised. It was never something I ever had much time to consider let alone explore," He explained, "In the Chantry, in the Circle it was all sort of condemned or rather, you take oaths. There were some that disobeyed them, plenty, but I never really did. Fraternization seemed beneath me somehow."

"I see."

Cullen moved another piece, capturing one of Dorian's knights, "Even if there was someone I considered attractive, I would always tell myself I wasn't allowed. I took oaths, it was beneath me."

"I could see how that would make things difficult. Habitually, if we deny ourselves the ability to be ourselves… Well, it generally makes for a mess when we try to correct things," Dorian explained as if from his own experience.

Cullen lifted his head to see the concentrated expression Dorian wore as he eyed the board, "Was it that way for you?"

"For a time," He moved another rook forward, "I knew what I _had_ to be, though a part of me knew that wasn't what or who I wanted to be. I went along with it for a long time. Kissed girls at parties, made nice with their fathers, eyed slaves whose ages mirrored my own. I was always allowed to explore, I suppose. I had that freedom, I just had to be secret about it. When I stopped caring about secrecy, well, that's when things got.. Messy."

"Your parents found out?"

"I suspect they always knew, at least to some extent and they didn't care so long as it remained hidden. But no, it was messy because I was young and rebellious and a drunkard. I also ran away from home on several occasions, trying to find a way to make something of myself without having conform to the strict guidelines my parents had created for me." 

Cullen rested his chin on his hand as he considered what Dorian had said and what he should do with his turn.

"A touch off topic, but when the Inquisitor interrupted our game the one time," Dorian started, "Is it alright if I ask why you responded with such alarm?"

Cullen lifted his head again as he recalled the occasion, "Oh--I suppose it was because… I've never been close friends with a Mage before. I've known many, lived with mages plenty, but I've never actually… Sat down and felt as though I could share a beer with one before."

"Well, we've yet to do that," Dorian leaned back, folding one leg over the other, "But if you're offering, I'd hardly refuse."

Cullen took a moment to consider it, moving his mage to capture Dorian's rook, "That might be nice. I'll have to see how much paper work I have waiting for me when I get back to my office."

"Bah!" Dorian barked, "One evening off won't kill you. How's this? I win, you come."

"Those are poor odds your betting with," Cullen folded his hands and leaned back with a grin.

"Fine, you win and I'll buy you a round of drinks then," He offered to sweeten the deal, "Either way, you're coming."

"Deal."

The match was finished in five more rounds, crowning Cullen the victor once again.

"So that puts us at three to two," He maintained his grin, though it was perhaps a little broader now.

Dorian worked on clearing the board and putting the pieces away, "Which means I have to win next time in order for us to maintain this trivial rivalry. Can't have you getting too full of yourself, Commander. I'd say it's a bad look but I'm afraid that's a difficult task for either of us."

Heat crept up the back of Cullen's neck, he reached back to rub the feeling away.

"And I owe you a round of drinks tonight, so if you skip, know that next time I win, you will be owing me instead," He glanced up from the board with a satisfied smirk.

"If you win," Cullen pointed out as he rose to his feet to collect the board.

"Is that your way of saying you intend to skip out on me? You wound me, Commander," Dorian handed the board off and placed a hand dramatically over his heart, "Do take it easy, Cullen. I'll see you tonight."

He carried the board under his arm, tucking the chairs and table away so the gazebo would be clear for anyone else to use it as they pleased. Returning to his office with the sudden and ever present thought of whether Trevelyan and Dorian were at all interested in one another.

Compared to Bull, Dorian had much softer lines, softer skin, never scarred or at least hardly to the same extent if he was. His fingers wouldn't be calloused from gripping a blade, though they might be from a staff. A lighter grip, one that allowed flourish in his movements. Gentle eyes, full lips, features traced and amplified by precise grooming.

Cullen tripped up the stairs to his office, stumbling most ungracefully as he nearly lost his balance. His eyes were wide and open now as he was unaware of when exactly they had fallen shut. He wasn't tired, he knew the answer just didn't wish to accept it. He shook his head, pushing the door open to his office and returned the chess board to it's usual location. It was time to work, he had to remain focused and vigilant.

Hours passed as his eyes scoured every page, read every letter and constructed documents that were to be passed from one person to another. When he sent one off with a scout to Leliana's tower, he asked if they could fetch him something from the kitchen as his stomach began to remind him of mortal needs. He took a moment to stretch, sore hand, sore back, sore neck. Desk work wasn't his favourite thing but it was important and he was more than glad to do it when every pen stroke held the potential of saving another from the edge of a blade.

He continued working even as his meal arrived, taking care to ensure none ended up on any documents as he ate sparingly. Dusk came, casting a brilliant blaze of gold across his office while he started another request form.

 _Just a little more and I'll be done,_  he promised himself.

The sun set. He lit candles determined to finish this last letter. The interruption to his flow was of mild annoyance but he persisted until he was met with success. Both Leliana and Josephine hardly ever expected him to delivery anything after nightfall unless it had been previously discussed so his letter would have to wait until morning before it could be sent. He set it aside in an envelope so he wouldn't forget to do just that.

He blew out the candle as he left his office, met with an air that differed from the draft that lingered through the hole in his roof. Wind cooled his face as he walked in the direction of the tavern. He could have entered from the wall but it seemed only appropriate to enter the way the tavern was intended to. He jogged down the stairs, half worried he had already kept Dorian waiting some time already, half expecting to be lectured as he flung open the door and entered. His eyes scanned the room for a familiar face.  
Trevelyan was seated with Cassandra in the second booth, he noted as he strode past towards the stairs. A laugh echoed from her chest, color touched her cheeks and she pushed at the man's arm. He seemed equally amused with whatever had been just said. The Charger's group was crowded around behind the stairs, all drinking, all cheering and roaring about one thing or another. A ruckus. Cullen hovered around the stairs trying to get some direction. Cremisius caught his gaze and gestured with his thumb to the right, which lead Cullen gaze to that of The Iron Bull's. The mercenary leader grinned and gave him a quick wink, which was somehow different than if one were to catch him blinking.

Cullen wasn't sure what that meant but he flustered, face feeling red with whatever implication might have been tied to it. Dorian sat directly beside him, already well into his own drink. Cullen wondered if he was better off walking back out for fear that he might somehow reveal that he had seen the Qunari naked. He approached hesitantly.

"Good evening," He greeted everyone at once.

Krem raised his flagon and the rest of the Chargers present cheered, Bull included. Dorian merely grinned around his drink, "Finally decided to join us have you? I almost thought you weren't going to show up."

"Well," he shifted, unsure of how to present himself in front of a group of relaxing soldiers, "I do believe you owe me a round of drinks. I've come to take you up on that."

Bull pat Dorian on the back with no reservations, causing the mage to clunk his teeth and curse while the Qunari spoke, "Good on you, Dorian! Getting the Commander out of his comfort zone, that's what I like to see!"

Cullen found his cheeks heating once more, doing his best not to think about hard lines and naked body of the person he was presently making eye contact with.

Bull leaned forward on his knees with a lazy sort of grin, "You should come out here more often, make friends with your troops. Sure would change Sera's opinion of you."

"Sera..?" Cullen paused for a moment as he recalled the blond elf, good with arrows, pranks and bees. Cullen's face fell as he thought of the bees, a thought much preferred to that of naked hard lines and scars. Riding.  _Bees_.

He shook his head, "So long as she's not planning on putting any more bees in my training dummies… Or maybe coming here more often would help stop her from putting bees in my training dummies..."  
He rubbed the back of his neck, not really sure which would lead to what with her.

"I feel as though I missed this incredible event, whatever it was," Dorian hummed, rubbing his upper lip, "Cullen, you'll have to fill me in. Let's get you your drink."  
The mage rose to his feet, bowing to his company, "Thank you all for the pleasant company, it's been most enjoyable."

"Damn right, it has," Bull grinned slapping Dorian's ass as he walked away, earning a yelp from the mage, an extra couple steps and glare at The Iron Bull as he rubbed the spot.

Some of the Chargers chuckled, Krem merely raised his flagon to Dorian, "Another time then."

"Another time," Dorian tried his best to hide the flush of his cheeks as he escorted Cullen to the bartender, "I have no idea what to make of that Qunari…"

Cullen shared the remark, "I-uh… Yes. He is hard to figure out. The Inquisitor seems to enjoy his company, at least."

"Hmmm" Dorian grumbled, flagging down the bartender, "Two pints of whatever on tap, my good ser. Darker brew if you have more than one for once." 

"You all go through it so fast, its hard for us to have a varied selection," The bartender gave a grunt as he poured two out, "There you have it." 

Dorian gave a nod, "Alright, here you have it then, six sovereigns."

"No tab?" Cullen inquired. The only response he got was a laugh as Dorian brought the fresh pint to his lips, a sip before he finished off the last few drops in the drink he had been nursing before.

He left the empty mug on the counter and directed Cullen upstairs where it was vaguely quieter, "I'm not allowed, the barman explained that to me when I racked up a tab of 42 sovereigns in one night and couldn't pay up the next day. He had me washing dishes all morning instead of waiting for me to scrounge up enough to pay it off. Needless to say, I'm only allowed to drink what I can pay for directly now."

Cullen let out a light chuckle at him, "How does one even drink 42 sovereigns worth in one evening?" 

"Well, you spill a good portion of it on the floor after a point because you can't walk straight," Dorian joked, "But I digress, with stairs to tackle, I will be far better behaved."  
He stole a chair off one of the tables that was apparently only serving one patron, passed out cold already and gestured for Cullen to sit, "I'll fetch us another. And a table. Hold my drink, would you?"

There wasn't much room for arguing, so Cullen complied, watching and waiting as Dorian assembled a suitable space for them to relax. Another chair pulled from a table where they only had two of three seated. He occupied it from being stolen with the beer Cullen had been holding, relinquishing his duty as Dorian approached the corner which Sera resided.

"Sera!" He called over the noise, giving the door a knock, "Sera, I'm going to borrow your barrel!"

"My what?" She shouted before poking her head out to see what was going on. 

"Your barrel," Dorian pointed to the barrel situated near the door, "There's no more tables."

"Fine, just bring it back, alright? It's ruddy heavy. Don't let nobody else use it either," She used a stern tone, but seemed good natured enough about it, "You got a date or something?"

"Uh… No, not quite. Here's your book. I'll definitely bring it back," Dorian handed over the paper that had been sitting on top.

"Right," She took it and glanced around the room to see who Dorian could have possibly been dining with when she spotted Cullen sitting across from one chair, no table. A giggle overtook her, "One rook, two knights. Lots of honey." 

"I beg your pardon?" Dorian was struggling with the barrel.

"Chess, you prissy pants!" She exclaimed, "Also bees. Ask him about the bees!"

Dorian gave an exasperated laugh, "I certainly will when I get this back over there."

"Good!" Sera came out of her room a little further to give Dorian a well meaning nudge on the shoulder, "Good on you. Got him out of his office all hobbled up and important like. Get him to look like people. Its more important to look like people."

Dorian wheezed as he tipped the barrel onto its edge, then side gently as he could manage, "What in the world do you have in this thing?"

"Dunno, arrows probably."

Dorian began rolling it along the floor to its new destination, "Right, thanks for lending it to me for the time being then."

"No problem! Enjoy your date! That Commander could use some grease in the hinges," She exclaimed, pointing to her armpit and making a creaky noise before closing the door to return to whatever she had been up to before.

Dorian let out a sigh as the barrel reached it's destination, "Please help me get this up."

Cullen set his drink down on the chair and rose to his feet, helping Dorian lift the barrel upright and maneuver it between the chairs as their makeshift tablet.  
"That is heavy," Cullen was astounded by the weight of it, taking a moment to admire it in all its disguised simplicity.

"I didn't know they made barrels that were structurally sound enough to--hff!--manage such things," Dorian groaned, taking his drink up and sitting down roughly only to curse upon doing so, "Kaffas--I swear I will think up a way to get back at that man yet."

"He has quite the swing," Cullen offered sympathetically, returning to his own seat. A sip of the tap ale proved it wasn't the most enjoyable blend, but it was something. He cringed a little and set it down.

Dorian seemed to not take notice of the flavour at all, downing half of it before setting the pint atop the makeshift table, "First he makes irate comments about my attire, calls me 'Vint, is all around brutish and after all that…" Dorian raised his hand frustratedly while shaking his head.

Cullen was uncertain of how to approach Dorian's complaining. Or perhaps it as venting, Cullen was never good with this sort of stuff.  
"You don't return his advances then?"

Dorian made a face as if he had just smelt something foul, "No, not at all. Not since--… Ugh…."

He sighed and with it lowered his voice,  "Lets just say its very apparent out dear Inquisitor has a  _type_. We spoke about it at great length once, he wanted my opinion."

"Did he…" Cullen was unsure of how to proceed with such a topic though given their earlier game, it wasn't the first time they conversed about related things, "Did he flirt with you at all?"

Dorian scoffed, "Not once."

_Hard lines, hard face, scars, stubble._

 Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, "So he has a type then."

"Yes, one that I imagine he's been branching out on since things evidently did not work out with Bull."

"You knew about that?" Cullen blurted out, "I mean--Ahem. Pardon me, we shouldn't gossip like this."

Dorian let a laugh erupt, "Knew? Of course, the Inquisitor had been making eyes at him for weeks! And now he's making eyes at Cassandra, which, I'll be honest, is a fair enough choice, specially if you're into gooey romance with a forward back plot and little build from one scene to the next."

The Commander let out a snort and Dorian took it in stride.

"You've read Swords and Shield then, I take it?"

"Only the first three chapters," Cullen admitted, " I couldn't look Varric in the eye for a week afterwards. Cassandra was determined that I give it a shot though."  
Cullen leaned across the table as he continued, "The worst part is, I know who that book is about. I've had several dealings with them! Reading any of Varric's books is like a bad trip through time for me."  
He rubbed is forehead unbelieving of the fact. He took up his drink again. 

Dorian was grinning, "I can only imagine, and if he writes another serial as I hear he is planning to… Well, we can all expect some form of a cameo, I'm sure."

" _Maker's breath,_  I hope not," Cullen pressed his thumb further into his forehead as he grinned over his mug.

"My theory is this, Blackwall is the hero, Vivienne is the villain, and we all get tangled up in their horrid disputes over how one should dress." 

Cullen leaned back to laugh, "Maker--She'd destroy us all."

" _If it's not clean shaven, then there surely is no Maker_ ," Dorian continued in a mocking tone, breaking only to add in his usual speaking voice, "Solas would be in her good graces."

It was enough to bring Cullen to tears, as simple as it was. It surely put him on some dangerous ground when it came to dealing with either of them later.

"Glad to get a laugh out of you, Commander," Dorian beamed, "So, your turn. What's the story with the bees?"

"Oh goodness," He worked himself off the fit of laughter, wiping his eyes, "That would depend entirely on which you mean."

"So there's more than one?"

Cullen gave a chuckle and shook his head, "There is definitely more than one."

"Go on then," Dorian encouraged, eager to hear either story, or both. Probably both. Cullen set himself on telling both.

"So, it started with the investigation of some… Man, farmer… Bee Colonist. A Red Jenny request. Very vague, so we sent a call for Bounty Hunters to scour the area and found the man Sera indicated on her…. Request form."

"You make it sound like there's something more there."

Cullen was smirking despite his best efforts to appear professional during his retelling, "Well, she did draw a jar of bees hitting someone face as well as a butt. Very top of the line stuff. Regardless, the man was found and the report we received was equally hilarious as…" Cullen snickered, "The report  _said_  'The beekeeper tented his fingers and sneered, "Of course!" with the added note of 'quite disturbing'."

Dorian tented his fingers and gave a mischievous grin, "Of coooourrrse!"

It only produced another snort from the Commander, had he tried to wave it off, "Josephine--I can't go into Josephine's office now without her pulling that at least once."

"You're joking!"

"I swear on Most Holy that I am not. I have to send couriers now if I have any hope of maintaining my dignity."

"…I'm gonna have to confirm this, Commander, I hope you know."

"Oh, Maker, please don't!"

"I'm afraid I've already decided, Commander. So unless you're planning to follow me about, day to day, you may have to just accept that I am going to discuss this with Josephine."

Cullen picked up his ale and downed the rest, "Maker preserve us."

"You've finished? I'll get us seconds," Dorian clambered to his feet with both mugs, "Get that second story ready because I intend to hear it upon my return."

Cullen merely shook his head as he watched Dorian saunter down the steps. A roar from the Chargers erupted just as Dorian's head vanished from view, Cullen could vaguely make out Dorian sending taunts in Bull's direction. The Commander took the absence of company to take in the atmosphere. It was rather comfortable in the Tavern and it hardly ever seemed to empty. With everyone's shifts starting and ending at different hours, it made sense that it never would.

He glanced up to the third floor, spotting feet dangling over the edge, seated and listening but not about to disrupt any person, it seemed.

"Cole likes to listen to the Bard sing," His attention was drawn back to Dorian as the man returned to his seat, " _She tells of great sorrows while lifting the sorrows of others_ , he says. I suspect he wants to learn but fears he hasn't the voice for it."

"Is he… really that well behaved?" Cullen asked in a lowered voice once more.

Dorian gave a shrug, "If he isn't, than no one can remember long enough to notice. I try not to think about it."

Cullen stared at the beer before him a moment before picking it up to drink, "Do you have a type?"

"A type? A type of what? Ale? Yes, I prefer the dark heavy kinds that sit in the gut first and then I fill up on the lighter stuff after that."

"No, I mean…" Cullen shrugged and glanced to another group in the room, "A type."

"Your innocence at times astounds me," Dorian chuckled, "Though I feel it a touch deceptive." He took his drink back before continuing, "Yes, _probably_. Sexuality is confusing at times when one tries to analyze it too much. I like men, whether that involves someone big and boisterous like The Iron Bull or someone with tamer features, like most elves, I tend to remain fairly open."

"But not women?" Cullen felt the need to clarify.

"I'll admit, Cassandra comes pretty close and honestly, if things hadn't worked out for either of us in terms of obtaining our freedom before being married off, I think we could make a rather dashing pair. All while being utterly bitter with one another," He grinned, "But no, I have no interest in pursuing Cassandra that way, nor any woman I've met present and prior."

Cullen gave chase to a thought, sipping his beer with furrowed brows.

"It's not always so clear cut," Dorian added after a moment, hoping it would lighten Cullen's expression, "We were talking earlier, Krem and I, before you arrived. There are always grey areas."

Cullen lifted his head, setting the ale on his lap, "Grey areas?"

"Say its easier to paint with black and white, when doing so, we tend to unconsciously erase the blurred line between the two but if you really look closely at--ahh…. Perhaps that's too complicated a metaphor. Venhedis…." He held a hand over his mouth as he took his time trying to phrase it, "It's like…. Hmmm."

He couldn't seem to come to a clear enough conclusion on how to state things, though Cullen waited patiently trying to decipher what was meant by black and white and areas of grey. Dorian raised his gaze upwards, calling to the ceiling, "Cole! Come here a moment! I'd like your assistance with something."

Cullen lifted his head only to see feet raise and the figure move, distant and shielded by a large hat, until suddenly the Spirit was standing next to them, "Yes Dorian?"

"You can see my thoughts or whatever, yes? Something I need help with? I'm trying to explain something to the Commander but I can't seem to phrase it right."

"That's because you've been drinking," Cole said without judgement, as if he were merely stating fact.

"Correct, it is because I have been drinking," Dorian held out his ale to exemplify the point.

The spirit gave a nod, fell silent a moment then nodded again, "I think I've got it."

Cole turned to Cullen after a moment, "He says, because people aren't black and white, they don't always fit into two distinct boxes. And when you force them to fit, it can hurt." His brows furrowed, "Like…. Her smile from afar as a strand of hair falls in front of her face. She's so beautiful but I can't have her-- People aren't possessions though, you have to talk to her to have your affections known--but when you talk sometimes, its nice. The way his voice vibrates low in his throat, the way the sun catches on his skin. He makes you laugh and you  _feel_  good. It wasn't like that with her. You wish it were."

Cole paused only long enough for Cullen's face to grow pained, "But--This isn't that, a-and I fear the point will be missed if I don't fix things now. This isn't about her. She was lust. Temptation. There is much hurt but that is hurt to explore another time. She never thought ill of you-but she also hardly knew you…"  
He glanced to Dorian, pleading, "I'm only making it worse! The more I dig, the more I dig up. He's so close to understanding but there's so much--" 

" _You're thoughts_ , Amatus," Dorian reached across to hold Cullen's wrist, to give him something physical and present to focus on, "Belong here, with the drink  _and_  your company."

His eyes were fixed solidly on Cullen's until the Commander's gaze raised to meet the mages'. An intensity flared behind it, unlike any Cullen had seen before. Cole's eyes shifted from Cullen to Dorian and back, "I should go."

They were locked solidly in a stare as Cole took strides to get away, downstairs, not up, and out of the tavern.

"….You should try focusing like this when we have our matches," Cullen joked in a whisper, his voice cracked.  _Soft eyes, soft face_  danced in his head and whispered in his ear. A burning in his veins stemming from the touch.

"I intend to, how else am I going to secure your defeat?" Dorian taunted, his voice so much more assured and assertive.

It wasn't until Cullen became conscious of their physical connection that he was truly freed from the thought. Blood rushed to his cheeks, "I-uh…" His eyes darted to where Dorian had clasped a hand around his wrist, "That could be a-uh… start."

He swallowed, feeling his throat dry as Dorian leaned back to let out a laugh, his hold relinquished, "Do you want me to hold your wrist while we play?"

"That would--" Cullen cleared his throat, "Would make for an interesting game, but I'm afraid I must decline."

"Shame that, but if you wish to include that amongst our list of activities for the future, consider me on board," Dorian's grin returned, " _So_. I believe you were going to tell me about the bees, part two."

"The bees," Cullen was taking a swig of the ale as he attempted to get his thoughts back in order, "Right, so… I'm not even really sure how she managed it, honestly. It was an entire hive. --I'm fairly certain she could even tell it better than I can, to be honest. She was watching from the window the entire time…"

 

* * *

 

It came at an excess of six beers before Cullen made his departure, stumbling backthrough the barracks towards his hole in the ceiling. It involved climbing more than he ever cared too partake in a state as he such was. He had surrendered himself to the possibility upon agreeing to Dorian's terms, though it didn't make it any less appealing now that he was tackling it by himself.

He could have invited Dorian to come along, he supposed, but that would be too bold, too forward and not fitting of the image he had created for himself.

"A mage," He snorted to himself as he climbed the stairs, "What kind of fool makes the same mistake twice?"

What Dorian was doing or where he planned to go from the tavern was not a thought that occurred to Cullen until he stumbled upon is office, covered in shadow and night. It was wrong of him to just leave Dorian there, he should have at least offered to walk him back to the gardens, not that it was far or that Dorian needed an escort. It was a confusing trail of thought. He started up the ladder, getting half way up before his grasp slipped. He landed on his back with a thud and a groan, followed by a giggle, "How many? Only….. Six? Maker, forgive me. I do not know how to hold my drink."

He rolled to his side and started up again, "I should thank Trevelyan, and tell him to shave."

He stopped, clinging to the top of the ladder as he burst into giggles once more, "Maker--what a terrifying thought!"

If Cassandra ever actually reciprocated the Inquisitor's advances then he'd have two in the know of his struggle with lyrium, lecturing him, and very likely discussing the matter in private. Just want he needed.

He dragged himself to the top and stripped himself down to his underclothes. The air was cool but his body felt so hot, and the burning inside his skin seemed relieved for the time being. He collapsed on the bed, feeling satisfied and tired from the drinking and laughter. They got going so good that other patrons came around to join them. Even Sera came out of her room at one point, and she did indeed tell the bee story far better than Cullen ever could. Though with Bull there, the three of them were able to combine their perspectives for what was perhaps the greatest telling ever.

They never did get around to moving the barrel back, Cullen realized suddenly, hoping Dorian would be able to manage the task per Sera's request. He didn't let the thought linger or plague him. He simply closed his eyes and let a sigh escape him. Perhaps it was something he should indulge in more often but for now it seemed time to sleep.


	2. Burnt Butter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a explicit sex scene towards the end of this chapter involving bull and dorian that contains implications of dubious consent

There were no dreams to recall as a gasp punched through Cullen's lungs, rendering him wide awake with a violent shake. Sweat coated his figure, searching for something to grasp onto in terms of what he had woken from. _Demons again or something else?_ Cullen clutched his chest, feeling as if he had been pierced, but not by blade.

Something else.

He got up after the sun, it made the sweat on his skin dance though he considered it too late in the day for him to bathe now. There would be no privacy, so he dried himself and got dressed instead, feeling hollowed and hung over.

"Maker…. I truly am a light weight, aren't I?" He groaned, sliding down the ladder to his office. A courier waited, likely overhearing him gasp and mutter. It mattered not, he handed off any and all completed work and inquired if they could send someone off to retrieve a breakfast for him. The courier gave a nod and excused themselves, leaving Cullen alone in his office with a fresh pile of papers. All seemingly accumulated while he was sleeping, leaving little room for him to consider much else besides the dull swell inside his skull. He cursed it again under his breath as he took up his quill and ink and set about his day.

The ache of his head only dulled once there was food inside his belly and water to quench an ever present thirst. It became easier to focus on his work and his productivity doubled for a time though he had little idea as to what time it was at present. He assumed it surely must be around, if not after, noon as the sun make no appearance through any window in his office. An appropriate time to take a stroll around the barracks. His chest still lingered with the sensation from his dream, clinging to the back of his mind as completed his routine checks on the soldiers equipment, as well as the all around progress to repairs in Skyhold.

"Heard you had quite the night, Curly," Varric greeted him as he entered the main hall.

Soldiers had begun harbouring certain rumors, urban legends about Skyhold and it was causing much unrest amongst the troops. Cullen was on his way to speak to Solas about any legitimacy to such claims but with Varric's interjection, he figured it could surely wait awhile longer.  
The commander slowed to a stop before the dwarf, "I'm surprised you didn't come join us."

Varric shrugged, "Would've, but as it turns out the kid needed some help tracking down a wooden duck instead. Besides, Wicked Grace is more my thing, you know? Get a nice group together, play a few games, make some terrible bets, swap some good stories… That's the sort of stuff that makes for a good time. It'd be great to have you and the other advisors join us some time, what do you say?

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the offer, "That might…"

"Look, just know that if you're ever feeling up for it, you're always welcome to join us. It's how we wind down on casual fridays," Varric cut Cullen off before he could accept or decline, "Sometimes the Chargers forget to wear pants."

"W-what?" Cullen sputtered, earning laugh from the famed novelist.

"They have this thing called 'No pants Fridays'. Usually they just joke about it but sometimes they actually follow through. Its quite the spectacle!" Varric grinned, "Tuff--Krem, he banned Tiny from actually joining in on the festivities though. Says he leaves enough hanging out as is."

The very notion prompted Cullen to rub the back of his neck, "I see… Well, perhaps on a night other than Friday."

"Not such a big fan of a pant-less audience, huh Curly?"

"It's easier to focus on the game when everyone's breeches remain on," He admitted honestly.

"A little more preferable too, at least when it comes to standing where I do," Varric added with a grin, "You speak to Hawke at all when he was here last?"

"Uh--no, only briefly. It was all business. Leliana dealt with him mostly."

Varric gave an understanding nod, "Well, I'm sure you have some reason coming here besides letting me chat you up, so don't let me keep you any longer. Take care of yourself, Curly."

"Thanks Varric," He offered a small smile as he carried forth towards Solas's office.

It was easy enough to greet the other despite the odds they stood on with one another. Solas was cooperative, and willing to assist in any way he could. Such was the terms of him being here. Cullen quickly moved straight to the matter at hand, addressing the concerns of his soldiers to the apostate.  
While he was expecting some insight, he had not quite expected Solas to give such a grand explanation of what it could be and how Cullen might deal with it.

Getting side tracked onto collecting herbs and making charms was not Cullen's idea of a quick solution but Solas seemed to think so. The man wrote him up a rather lengthy list of common items he could use to create such charms and then furthered the list by instructing how to make them.

"Even if there is nothing," Solas concluded, "It may very well put those dreading whatever this legend is at ease."

Cullen thanked Solas for his insight as he took his leave with the detailed piece of paper. He sighed looking it over as he went up the stairs, intending to use the nearest route to shortcut across to his office. Dorian's usual haunt appeared empty, Cullen lingered about for a moment, wondering if the other was perhaps about. He could only hope the mage hadn't seriously overdone things the night before.

* * *

 

"Sera," Dorian grunted as he set the barrel upright near her door. She had told him it was best to leave it the night before, so he had. Now that it was morning - or afternoon, as he was told when he groggily left his quarters - he was determined to return the barrel as promised, "Why is it you referred to my outing with the Commander as a date?"

"Cause that's what it was," She leaned in the doorway, "Two people set a time to go out together or whatever, that's a date."

"Why not just call it an outing?"

"Cause it ain't. You two didn't just meet up at the door, did ya? Happy coincidences are an outing, no planning, you just… Go. You plan, it's a date. It's that simple."

"Regardless of intention?" He leaned against the wall as Sera gave a shrug.

"Ain't gotta have one unless you want it to. Two friends hanging out? Cool. Two people who work together? Cool. Whatever works for ya. If your worried I'm suggesting wigglybigglies about you and the Commander that I shouldn't be, I'm not. "

"It's a constant concern," He admitted with a sigh, "Being in good graces with anyone here starts rumours. _My_ being here, starts rumours."

"Cause you're from Tevinter, yeah? You could lose more of that."

Dorian's face fell as irritation rose up under his skin, "And how, per chance, does one lose more of Tevinter? Assuming your an expert."

Sera clicked her tongue, "I dunno, you just… Take in something else. Stop waving around all that talk of magic and whatever."

There was an itch to push to topic but Dorian bit his tongue instead, "Right, well then. I think I should take my leave before I say something unsavoury."

"And using lingo like that. Makes you sound all high and mighty," She gave him an offish face.

"Thank you, Sera," He bit back, tension clear in his features as he walked off. A shot of whiskey seemed like a good plan even if the day was only just over half of the way through. Starting his day in the tavern was a blessing for that, easy access. One shot and he was out the door. He had no idea what the Inquisitor was up to today, nor did he have any care to know. If he was required, he'd surely find out one way or another leaving Dorian free to ponder whatever else he might plan to accomplish with his day. More research, he supposed. Scouring books for any and all information he could find on the fade, lyrium, Tevinter history and of course there was always time for journals.

He let out a sigh, resigning himself to the fact it was going to be another late night full of reading, taking notes and listening to Leliana's damned birds flap about the tower.

Varric greeted him as he entered, passing by to get to his usual nook, "Hey Sparkler, just saw Curly a little while ago. You two go for a game in the gardens?"

"Hm?" Dorian slowed, pausing with a hand on the door, "No, I was just moving a few things around in the bar. He came by?"

"Could've been business with someone else," Varric shrugged, "I didn't really stop him to ask about it."

Dorian paused in thought, "I'll check in with him in a bit then… I just recalled a very important something I must inquire with Our Lady Montilyet. Do you know if she's in or with guests?"

"Saw her this morning," Varric offered, "There might've been a few fancy faces going in and out but I'm sure you can charm your way through if she's hosting any of the Inquisition's wonderful guests."

"Fair enough," Dorian nodded, "Thank you Varric."

"Anytime, Sparkler."

He crossed the hall in the direction of the war table so that he may speak with the Inquisition's beloved ambassador and chief diplomat. He gave a knock on his way through the second set of doors and waited for the invitation of, "Come in."

"Ambassador," He greeted with a bow of his head, noting there was only a scout present in the room, "Do you have a moment?"

"Oh, yes," She gestured for the scout to go, satisfied with whatever they had covered before Dorian's interruption, "Do come in."

Dorian watched the scout leave as he sauntered further into the room, "I had the great fortune of sharing a few drinks with Commander Cullen last evening and I've come to confirm, or null, a rumour."

"A rumour?" Intrigue and concern grew on her face at once, "What sort of rumour?"

"The sort…" He chuckled mid sentence as he figured out how to best deliver it, tenting his hands together as he did his best to regain composure, "That goes, _Of couuurse_."

Eyes widened as her jaw dropped, a disbelieving scoff escaped before laughter erupted for the incredibly respectable diplomat, "He did not!"

It was the best reaction could have ever hoped to receive. "He told me the whole story," Dorian grinned, "Said you do the best impression."

"I wasn't even there," She displayed a bashfulness despite her face being alight.Josephine leaned forward in her chair, "But when we received that report, I couldn't resist."

"And now you torment the Commander with it, I hear."

"So long as there are no other guests present," There was a satisfied smugness to her tone, "Yes. That man could do with far more laughter in his life."

"I was hoping you might show me your imitation, for future references," He gestured across to Josephine who gladly complied.

Something about the way she was postured herself over the desk, brows raising then lowering as she spoke and the devious smirk pitching the corners of her mouth made the performance entirely too perfect, " _Of course_."

The ambassador's office became a chamber of laughter as Dorian's voice rolled out and bounced off the walls, "Well there's no competing with that, he's correct."

"Is it really that good?" Josephine's eyes glistened with excitement, "Perhaps I should practice in front of a mirror. No, that would ruin the charm."

"It's fine just as it is," Dorian assured her, "Thank you Lady Montilyet."

"You did not come for anything else?" She inquired.

"No, not presently, but should something else come up I will be sure to let you know," He turned around slowly and started back towards the door.

Josephine lowered her head, "A pleasure as always, Dorian."

He wore a grin all the way back to the tower, passing Varric, who was deep in whatever letter or novel he was drafting. He flung open the door and greeted Solas as he started for the stairs.

Walking past Solas was always somehow unnerving to Dorian because while he felt there was much the other mage could share with him and even teach him, Solas was the only person to ever make Dorian feel like every word that left his mouth was inherently 'wrong'. Even the simple and most innocent greeting of, "Good afternoon, Solas" was often met with, "Is it?"

He hovered about the room, searching for some kind of response only to find he had none that wouldn't immediately launch Solas into some sort of one sided debate. _Most regrettable._  Dorian hurried up the stairs without another word and did his best to ignore that the brief conversation ever happened.

His mind had wandered elsewhere, it had been a very rocky day thus far, but the Commander had come to see him, assumably. Perhaps it would best if he checked in on Cullen before he really dug into any work. He paced about his usual nook, weighing his options. The worst that could happen was simply that the man was busy with matters that couldn't be put off, he decided, so he walked from the tower to the Commander's office. The nice thing about Skyhold was that despite it's rather spacious appearance, no one was ever truly that far away. The convenience was a spender to behold, and behold he did as he crossed the path and paused at the Commander's door.

* * *

 

"I owe you an apology," Cullen took a deep breath, pulling his gaze from the desk to Trevelyan who appeared surprised by the sentiment, "There is a lot I'm working through at the moment."

"On top of work, I assume," Trevelyan canted his head to the side, "Is everything alright? If this is about before, don't worry about it. I might have rushed things, been to bold. I've always dealt with having my romantic interests picked for me so when I realized that I had the freedom of displaying my own interest without anyone else's involvement, I got a touch carried away."

"No, no. It's--Well, yes, that but still. I feel I owe you an apology. I've never been best when handling anyone's emotions, including my own," Cullen straightened and rested his hand over the hilt of his sword, "My behaviour following that, despite my saying so, was inappropriate and for that apologize."

Trevelyan gave him an disbelieving smile, "Apology accepted, Commander. It's fine, I promise. If anything I should be apologizing for…."

The Inquisitor cleared his voice and Cullen instantly understood, "Oh-OH! No, don't worry about that. That wasn't--" He tried to lean on his sword as if it were his desk, arm slipping and throwing off his balance temporarily. He straightened himself and cleared his throat as well, "That wasn't something I think any of us are at fault for. …Maybe the scout who told me that was your last location, if we're to point fingers anywhere."

"Haha… Yeah," Trevelyan glanced away with heat rising to his face, "That was… Something. To be completely honest, it was a little too fast for me. Not the--… Just, the relationship in general."

Cullen wasn't entirely sure how he felt talking about the Inquisitor's love life after turning him down but he wasn't about to turn him away, unsure of how many others the man could divulge such information to. He rubbed the back of his neck pondering how this ended up being the casual topic of discussion for the day, "Well, he is The Iron Bull. I imagine he's quite comfortable with physicality."

"In more ways than one," Trevelyan nodded, "He's a good guy, I just wish there was more…. Talking? I'm not really sure."

"Swords and Shields?" Cullen suggested and tried to keep the humor off his face.

Trevelyan took a moment to consider it, though it was evident he didn't grasp what Cullen meant, "Maybe."

A mental note that Trevelyan must not have read let alone heard of the novella. A blessing in disguise.

"The more I go through with this sort of stuff, the more I realize that it's important to have some sort of foundation. A friendship," He folded his arms, "Specially if its someone I want to consider spending the rest of my life with. With the arranged courtships its more about what wealth it will bring into the family and whether you'll make cute kids together. The sooner you agree to a bride, the sooner you sign yourself off to some stranger for life. I'm sure there's some who make it work but…"  
Trevelyan's shoulders drooped, "I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for listening, Cullen."

"Anytime, Inquisitor," Cullen bowed his head as the other left out the side door towards the stables. It wasn't until the door had shut behind the man that Cullen collapsed into his chair, exhausted from hiding the effects of withdrawal. The dull sensation of his dream burned around his chest with the increasing urge to indulge himself in lyrium. 

He flipped some of the papers that required his attention, hoping to have them provide enough of a distraction even if he turned them with shaking hands. His eyes fell to Samson's name, feeling the ache sharpen as red flashed through his mind.

There was a knock, tearing his attention from the page as he jolted upright into a composure he designated for guests, "Come in."

Dorian pushed the door open, a face he hadn't expected to see today amongst the rounds and work. His own surprise to reflect on the other man's face. The door was shut to keep the cold out, moving in to maintain a respectable distance as he folded his hands, "I was going to ask if you cared for a game of chess, but today seems like one of those days."

"Which days?" Cullen leaned forward, folding his hands over the scattered papers that lay on top his desk.

Dorian's posture relaxed, "The sort of day where everyone is hounding for your audience despite your numerous duties. I'll relinquish my offer. Did you sleep well?"

"I did," The question was not one he had been expecting sent his way, "And what of yourself?"

"Like a baby," Dorian remarked with snark, "I still woke up with a blasted headache and a weak stomach regardless… _But_ one of the Chargers makes the most incredible hangover potion I've ever had in my life. You half expect to throw it up as its going down, but once it's down, it works miracles."

"Sounds like you were worse off than I," Cullen scoffed with sympathy.

Dorian simply shrugged, "I drank at least twice your amount, Commander, it should come as no surprise."

"Yet your up and about as it had no effect on you at all," The Commander pointed out, getting out a quill and some ink. The air was comfortable enough that he felt he could do some work while they talked, "I nearly convinced myself that you would be bedridden all day."

"With a chamber pot in dire need of change half way through," Dorian remarked, "I'd be doomed. Thankfully I am fully capable of handling my weight in liquor, and then some."

It was a comment to raise Cullen's gaze to man, feeling he had just learned something most could only gather from observation. It was clear Dorian enjoyed indulging in drink but he was beginning to think there was more to it than that. "This is a regular habit of yours then?"

The mage took to adjusting elements of his garment as he spoke, "Regular enough. Never something I allow to get in the way of work, rest assured."

"But something to turn to after a long day of it?"

Dorian hesitated, "Yes. ..I suppose this isn't your way of asking whether you'd like to join me again this evening."

A chuckle slipped out of Cullen, "I'm afraid not. The occasional indulgence is fine, but I don't think I have the tolerance to mind both the drink and…"

Dorian gave an understanding nod cutting in as he read the cue, "Understood. You need not say more. You've likely had enough interruptions for one day, shall I leave you to your work?"

Cullen sucked in a breath, eyes returning to the neglected papers before him, "Yes, that would be preferable."

"I did speak to Josephine," He added, turning to the door, about to pull it open, "And you are entirely correct. She does a flawless impression."

Cullen didn't raise his head but he did let out a pleased chuckle as he scribbled 'Important' on one of his forms, "She slays me with it every time."

"It's definitely one to pull out at parties, "Dorian agreed, amusement coating his voice, "Another time, Commander."

"Oh-! Before you go," A thought pounded into his mind as he recalled their conversations from the evening before, "That word you said last night. It sounded like a form of address. Is that a Tevene word?"

Dorian stilled with the door open, "Can you recall which?"

"Well it wasn't one of the many curses you spouted, I can promise that," Cullen chuckled, as he tried to recall the sound, "Atus? Atacus?

"…Amatus?" Dorian inquired softly.

"That sounds about right."

There were a string of words Dorian tossed together that Cullen couldn't understand or even really comprehend as it was all said under his breath. His brows raised to the other man, "And that means…?"

"It mean I was very drunk," Dorian let out a grand sigh, "My apologies, Commander. Amatus is a term of endearment which can be used as a form of address."

"Oh," Cullen tried to piece together what that could mean. He did consider Dorian a good friend, but based on his reaction, it seemed a bad thing. A drunken error.

"I suppose if you ever wanted a more precise translation, you could inquire with Krem. I could also, of course provide it but presently, I'd much rather not," He left the room without another word to follow. His departure accented by the closing of the door.

Cullen sat in silence, let to wonder why the word would leave such an ill impression on the other if it was only of endearment.

* * *

 

Dorian cursed consistently to himself as he crossed back to his working quarters, eager to dive into a book so he would have something to focus on other than his own drunken foolishness. He shouldn't have said that, he had no reason to say that and yet, he had.

He reached for the first book he could grasp, whether it was related at all to what he considered required reading for the day or not. He flipped through quickly to discover it was not, promptly placing it back and scanning the rows for something else.

"Something that matter, dear?" Vivienne's voice came from his nook. She was seated in his chair, the chair he kept there for _his own_ lounging. _Was nothing sacred?_

Dorian sighed, taking a moment to keep any personal grievance off his face as he greeted the Knight-Enchanter, "Good afternoon, Vivienne. Did you need help with something?"

"Mm," She hummed, as she sat forward, giving the appearance that she had been waiting of him for some while, "Not help, exactly. More that I'm borrowing a few books for your area and thought you should know."

"And you didn't think to leave a note?" There was more attitude in his voice than he would have preferred but Vivienne hardly seemed bothered by it.

"Of course, but knowing you, I figured a note may not be enough," She concluded, "I left a list on the nearest table of all the books I will be borrowing. I've already moved them to my station. Should you require any of them, you will have to wait until I am done. But rest assured, darling, I have no plans to keep them any longer than tomorrow evening."

Dorian moved from the shelf he was half scouring to the table with the list. _The History of Nevarran Architecture, Lyrium mining, The Hierarchy of Tevinter..._

"…Vivienne," He began softly, "More than half the books on this list are the ones I require for my research."

"I know," she took a breath in as she rose to her feet, "Which is why I am borrowing them. The Inquisitor is taking me to the Exalted Plains in a few days. I suspect he needs to craft new armour and sell some things, so rest assured that they will be returned before I leave."

Dorian's shoulders drooped, "Right, well then…"

"Oh, don't look so down, Dorian. There is plenty for you to read if you just look," Vivienne's smug attitude was entirely refined like a sharp red white.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes as she took her leave, "And now my chair smells of Orlais."

The air of discontent did not leave Dorian even after he found a written record of the third blight which was entirely fascinating. As soon as daylight faded, Dorian was on his feet having accomplished absolutely nothing. It was a miserable day for drinking but that was precisely what he was going to do regardless and knew well enough that the quickest route would be the one that involved crossing Solas, if the man was even in the tower at this hour.  
He dashed down the stairs and said nothing as he passed. Solas appeared to be asleep anyways, likely dreaming of the fade. Varric was not in his usual space either. _Good_ , Dorian thought to himself as he took steps towards the Tavern in stride, well aware that the air about him read annoyed.

"Do you serve anything besides piss poor ale here?" Was the first question out of his mouth as he greeted the bartender. A poor greeting but the man hardly ever seemed to judge Dorian since his initial presentation of poor decisions and behaviour.

He earned a grunt, "If your in need of food, we got some bread, meat and cheese in the back. Occasionally potatoes as well. As for liquor, if your planning on buying a bottle, you're going to have to be a little more specific."

"Hmm….. Bourbon would be good. Something extra strong for the amount that's in it would be preferable, even if it tastes like ass. I suppose some bread and cheese would be fine as well," He leaned on the counter, "How much'll that run me?"

"4 sovereigns for the meal and I'll see what we've got in back for your drink before running your charge on that."

"You certainly do like to overcharge," Dorian sighed, "But I'll be here. Waiting."

"You want food, you should've gone to the kitchen," The bartender pointed out before turning away to disappear in the back. He returned with a wooden plate featuring the mage's meager meal featuring a knife and two bottles, all of which were set down in front of him, "Here's you food, four sovereigns. We got some black rum and whatever's in this bottle. Too dark to see but you seem the type to try it even if it'll kill you. I'll run you 14 for the rum and 16 for the mystery drink. Pick your poison."

"Why charge more for the unknown one?"

"Cause as much as I seem a heartless beast, I don't want none of the Inquisition's Inner Circle dying on my watch. 16 sovereigns."

Dorian fished out twenty to cover the costs though he figured the rum was likely the better option in terms of taste but the overall goal of getting trashed was far more coaxing. The bartender set a glass on top the drink in exchange for the cash, taking the other bottle to the back.

Dorian collected his items and moved to a table upstairs. Meal times always tended to clear the tavern out a little bit, which means Bull wasn't around for the time being. Sera might not be either. He stowed away in a corner where he was least likely to be found. The wall behind Sera's room seemed like the best option for that, so he settled and started with a drink.

It tasted like ash and burned like fire as it went down but it provided a swift kick to the gut that left Dorian cringing and shaking his head. It was everything he could have hoped for.

 _'But what does it taste like after one sets it on fire?'_  A question he pondered but briefly before indulging his curiosity with a bit of fire magic followed by a cool breath to snuff the flame so that he could safely enjoy the drink but seconds later.

He set the glass down with a far more pleased expression on his face, though he still closed his eyes and shook his head.

_Fantastic._

The bartender had placed a few links of meat on the wooden plate along side the bread and cheese, which was promptly ignored for favour of the other two. He cut the bread thin and the cheese thick, looking to fill his stomach without taking away from the effects of the alcohol. It worked mostly, though he still hadn't made a dent in his bottle nor really the bread. The cheese was nearly vanquished, or at least half of it was which left Dorian satisfied but hardly full. Though that was never the intention to begin with.

He took his time pouring out the liquor, lighting it up and waiting for the flame to die instead of using magic to rush the process along. Waiting often took to long, so he took to placing his hand over the top to put out the flame instead. The tavern began the post dinner refill, indicated by the gradual raise in volume people entering and conversing, the bard began to play. He swore he heard a creak from Sera's room so either she had come down the stairs or entered through the window as he most certainly did not see her coming up the stairs.

Dorian could make out Krem's voice most distinctly when the man entered downstairs, even if he lacks the means to confirm such visually. Krem was good company, despite their different experiences on the social scale. The mercenary was capable of offering a refreshing perspective on many things from politics to how to handle a hot cup of soup. Though Dorian did not feel the need to seek out his company presently, he did take a moment to appreciate it. Several more drinks were poured out and a slice of cheese was consumed entirely on its own.

Aged Ferelden cheese was simply a delicacy in Dorian's opinion, best paired with grapes or wine. If he had a choice over which, he'd prefer the wine. A silent musing as he savoured the sharp yet creamy flavor on his tongue.

There was another distinctive voice to pull him from his thoughts. The Iron Bull's was pervasive in ways he would never understand. Even without being terribly loud, it seemed to run up the steps and demand his attention, "Yeah, in situations like that it actually helps to tilt the shield up, you know."

A one sided conversation, if it were Krem, maybe Dorian could have picked up on it but Bull's voice was the only one to be caught up by his ears.

"No, I don't but that doesn't mean I haven't trained with both. Listen, just give it a shot next time, that's all I'm saying. You might be surprised."

Dorian turned back to his drink, feeling the buzz edge into tipsy. It would be good if he could talk to someone without it ending miserably. Not that his conversation with Josephine had but out of everything, the odds seemed rather stacked. He inspected the empty glass and the rationed plate of food, "…What am I doing with my life?"

He clambered to his feet, placing the glass atop the bottle in a manner that would cause it to clank around the bottle as he moved and gathered his plate. It was considerably harder to balance this time around but he managed back downstairs just fine.

"Dorian!" Bull cheered as the mage stood at the bottom of the steps, "Came to get your drink on early?"

"And sample the incredible selection of food the bar provides, evidently," He offered the plate to Bull as he neared, "No company tonight? I could have sworn I heard you having a discussion just awhile ago."

Bull grinned, leaning forward to take the plate, "You could be a spy yet with talk like that, or maybe you're just listening for a way to seduce me."

Every time Bull made such suggestions it rendered Dorian still, never certain what to make of such flirtatious advances. His history never quite put him in the line of pursuit, rather, he was often the pursuer. Bull's attempts took the situation and caused it to flip, making it an experience quite unlike any he had previous.

"If I was looking for a way to seduce you, I'd have told you ages ago," Dorian huffed as he gathered his wits, "Likely while drunk."

"Oh? Does that mean you've been holding out on me?" Bull teased, "Offering me sausage instead."

"I swear, if you make some terrible joke…." Dorian threatened as he took a seat, glass set aside so he could drink directly from the bottle.

Bull's grin widened, taking it as a challenge, "No jokes, I will down this sausage in the same way I would go down on you and unlike the sausage, there'd be a lot more to follow. Two links."

He held the sausage up as to demonstrate, dropping them down slowly, like how a sword eater performs for an audience. The only difference being the sausages never came back up and that was enough to draw Dorian's eyes wide. "Venhedis! Are you trying to kill me!?" Dorian cursed as he nearly shot liquid ash out his nose. 

Bull laughed, the sausage gone, swallowed, assumably. Dorian's eyes darted from the Qunari's face to his stomach and disbelief.

"Nah, not kill you," Bull leaned forward, "Seduce you, that's what I'm going for."

Snide sat on the edge of Dorian's tongue, hissing at Bull without words as he sat the bottle down and snagged the plate back.

"Brute," He added as an after thought, slicing more cheese and bread, intent on enjoying the last of it so he wouldn't have to bare witness to another one of Bull's seduction attempts. The cheese was still entirely fantastic and what he couldn't finish of the bread, he offered to Krem in order to save himself. Even if the other man wasn't hungry, he accepted it easily enough. He half suspected Krem was aware of the discomfort Bull's advances brought him but whether the two ever spoke on the matter was beyond the mage.

He sat back down and picked up his bottle once again, going for his glass this time.

"So what is that exactly? That's not normally on the menu, is it?" Bull inquired.

Dorian held the bottle out for Bull to examine, "No label. It tastes like ass but it's vaguely more enjoyable when you set it on fire."

"And here I thought you liked the taste of ass," Bull's grin returned.

Dorian rolled his eyes, "Did I say ass? I meant ash. It tastes like ash."

"And then you set it on fire," A statement that implied a question of 'How the hell did you come to that conclusion?'

His answer was a shrug as Dorian downed the glass without bothering to demonstrate. He cringed at the taste and shook at the way it hit but it was still doing the trick.

"Can I try?"

"Only if you promise not to drink half the bottle," Dorian grimaced.

"You pretty much already did that," Bull pointed out as he opened the bottle to takes a small sip. He didn't let the bite show on his face, licking his lips as he handed the bottle back. "Yeah, that's pretty ashy."

"I'll assume you eat ash then," Dorian reached for the bottle, pouring himself another glass.

Bull gave a satisfied nod, "Ash and ass. Though the first usually isn't on purpose."

"Vishante kaffas," Dorian stated sarcastically, earning a snort from Krem, though he coughed to cover it up.

Bull's gaze wandered to his second in command before returning to Dorian, "Isn't that the one Sera asked you about? Shit and uh…." He paused, trying to think of what it was, "Eating it. Yeah. You shit eater, you. I knew you liked the taste of ass."

The ever confident smirk returned, Dorian could hardly stand it, "It's 'you shit on my tongue' actually. Any pleasure I might partake is entirely separate from the conversation."

"Yeah, but it doesn't have to be," Bull's voice vibrated in a weird growl purr that Dorian was entirely confused as to how he ever pulled off.

Another glass, he decided. Today would just not be a day for Dorian to remain talking as his many prior conversations dictated earlier. Nor was it a day for Bull to be speaking but the mage had less control over that unless he wanted to indulge the man in his seduction attempts.

He eyed Bull's shoulder curiously but his gaze didn't go unnoticed with the sudden stall in conversation. The muscle twitched and another growl escaped Bull, "You're staring."

Dorian didn't bother to remove his gaze. Staring wasn't a crime, he wasn't going to have to pay a fine of fifteen sovereigns for allowing his eyes to roam across Bull's chest. He didn't run the risk of being picked up and out of the tavern to be locked in jail. He simply sipped his drink in place of any response and let his gaze bother Bull in whatever manner it might.

The growl got lower, more irritated. Dorian smirked around his drink, finding the bitter and almost repulsive taste quite soothing for the satisfaction he found in Bull's annoyance.

In any other situation, Bull could have twisted control away from him, but here, slightly drunk, Dorian held it. There was something entirely satisfying in that. He broke his gaze to fill another glass, passing it Bull's way, "I'm going to light it."

And then he did. It popped with a bright blue flame that burst from his fingertip though neither was all too large.

"Fancy trick," Bull grunted.

"It get's fancier," Dorian hummed, aware of the flirtatious weight his voice carried. Aided only by his actions as he leaned forward and blew ice, enough to smother the flame and crisp the glass. He could feel Bull's staring now, intense and intent. Dorian leaned back and watched Bull calculate what to do. The glass was taken back and given time to let the flavour swirl around his tongue. He swallowed hard, Dorian felt himself replicate the action, very much aware that he was drunk and ever so slightly aroused.

Rejection was not something Dorian ever dealt with well and he had enough confessions from doe-eyed hopefuls that he knew it was never easier being the deliverer of such news either. His chest tightened.

"What was it you said about my choice of attire?" Dorian found himself asking, desperate to find a way out of the conflict in his head.

Bull knew very well to which conversation he referred because as Dorian raised his gaze, he was met with a hunger just as present as before, "Watch it, 'Vint."

"I'd rather prefer you did," He taunted, voice quiet but daring.

The air was tense between them, bleeding out into the tavern. Despite this, the bard continued to play. Nightingale's Eyes.  
Dorian was afraid to stand, knowing what he invited if he did, but preferring it over any alternative.

 _Could he even make it up those stairs in time?_  He prayed to the Maker that he would but just in case he didn't, he made a suggestion, "As a Ben-Hassarath, I suspect you know how many stairs it takes to get to the top, yes? And if you don't know the number, then you can at least tell based on the sound."

Bull gave a slow nod, following along and picking up what Dorian suggested.

"Good," He rose to his feet, bringing the uncapped bottle with him as he sauntered up the stairs. Leaving such a tense situation brought raise to his heart rate and the more he climbed, the faster it got. He knew exactly what awaited him at the top of those stairs. He passed Cole who left him undisturbed as he pushed open to the decrepit room with a single queen sized bed. He shut the door behind him and took a seat on the bed, wondering if he should strip or give Bull the satisfaction of tearing it off him like threatened before. He set the bottle of ash down, wondering to himself why he hadn't taken the cap. It was a thought he wasn't left to linger on long. The Iron Bull was true to his name, took the stairs by storm. No knock, the door simply sprung open and with it, Dorian to his feet.

"Shit, I knew you'd give me a chase," Bull's desire burned raw as he crossed the floor to where Dorian stood, a bit like a deer in headlights.

An arm hooked around his back and drew him close, pulling the mage into a kiss that melted away into many more, all of which he held no control over. Lips covered his chin, neck, and everything in between. Dorian's breath grew hot,his body lifted by the raw strength of the other man and tossed onto the bed. He caught air as he bounced off the mattress before settling back into it. At least the bed more accommodating that it gave appearance, a thought nulled by sudden presence of The Iron Bull.

An aggravated growl hovered near him as any concern for the intricate series of belts and buckles was haphazardly ignored in favour of simply forcing the fabric away from Dorian's body.

"Hey!" He yelped, "There's a better way to get it off!"

"Then you get it off," Bull's patience had already run thin it seemed and for whatever reason, that was entirely attractive at the moment.

Dorian quickly flicked loose all the upper attachments, only to find the rest flung open and tugged free, rendering Dorian naked with another yelp, "Andraste's tits! You don't have to be so rough!"

Bull raised his gaze to Dorian's face, taking a hold of his arm and the tattoo that was present upon it. He wasn't sure what Bull intended to do, Dorian liked to think he was a well read man but Bull's face was something he could not make heads or tails of.

"You say Katoh, I'll stop, got it?"

"..." Dorian struggled to find his voice.

"Got it?" Bull's voice snapped, demanding answer.

Dorian flinched, "Got it-I've got it."

"Good," There was a grunt of a response before Bull dragged his tongue along Dorian's forearm much to his amazement. It was a far more gentle act than anything Dorian had anticipated. Bull moved along to press kisses to every scar, scratch and bruise, new and old. He watched with amazement, noting a surprising tenderness in the way Bull proceeded.

Heavy hands caressed the sides of his body and Bull gradually traveled lower to where there was less damage done. His mouth got bolder, nipping, sucking and licking the skin, stopping just above his underthings.

"Silk?" He asked.

"It is," Dorian confirmed, unsure why it was any concern. Bull was still wearing everything he always did. That was something far more worthy of concern.

Bull touched it, touched him through it, earning as gasp from the mage. Bull grinned, "This could be fun."

Dorian gave him a look of bewilderment, the only encouragement the other man needed to mouth him through the cloth, earning a shudder and a moan - a whine if Dorian was being entirely honest with him. Bull's mouth felt good, it was a truth Dorian would deny himself no longer as he tossed his head back.

"Fuck me," He uttered breathlessly.

There was that same rolling growl, only this time it was around his cock. Dorian groaned, the groan transforming to disappointment as Bull pulled away to respond, "I intend to."

 _Well, shit._ Perhaps he should have taken Bull up on his offer a lot sooner.

"--Don't keep me waiting," His voice broke, dry from the drink. Bull wasn't very gentle when removing his underwear either, but he made up for kissing anywhere it might have caught, all except the head of his cock which was a little disappointing even if he knew satisfaction would be found there eventually. He could hear Bull's working off arm guard. Leather and buckle.

"Roll on your stomach," A simple instruction, one that Dorian complied with easily. It was a position that made it ideal for rutting the bed, but Dorian thought himself a patient man. He could wait for relief too. Bull's laughter however, he had no reservations turning his head to see what that was about, "I give you that?"

A bruise, light yellow in color covered Dorian's left buttcheek.

"…Yes, I believe it was," Dorian glowered.

Bull took a moment to compare the size of it to his hand and grinned meticulously, "Good. That's a good one."

"I didn't give you shit for it for nothing," Dorian bit back, "Every time I thought I might be okay to sit on it, I was painfully reminded."

Bull's voice lowered in pitch, "Good."

It stirred a feeling in Dorian's gut. "I'm not posed all pretty just for you to admire my ass," He felt it necessary to remind Bull of that, "As much as I might be privy to it elsewhere."

A slap. Dorian gasped as the pain vibrated through him. He could hardly feel Bull's hands despite the fact that they were both very present on his ass.

"Now that'll do it," Bull declared though Dorian couldn't find the words to ask what. Any words that were close to forming, slipped from his mouth as he felt warmth between his cheeks and lower. Bull's tongue seemed to have no issue finding a use. Hands clutched the sheets desperately as he found himself being eaten out with incredible velocity.

"W-what in the world do they feed you in the Qun?" Dorian's voice quivered, his entire body shook and his arousal was spiking higher than a jouster launched from a trebuchet.

Whatever Bull's reply, it translated into incredible vibrations in Dorian's ass so he was simply going to assume he meant just that, ass. The Qun fed everyone ass. Ass for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It must have been Bull's favourite meal because he sure went at it like he'd been deprived it for far too long.

When the feast was finished, Dorian crumpled against the sheets with a groan. Being drunk sapped a great deal of control from his limbs, but that was nice. Bull dropped his pants, Dorian could tell that much even without turning his head. Sounds were incredibly revealing at times.

He closed his eyes, trying to gather his energy for whatever else was to come. Weight on the bed was a good indicator to start with.

"Come here," Bull instructed and Dorian grumbled, reluctant to comply.

He did comply though, pushing himself upand moving so he could sit, " _Where_ did you want me to _come_ , exactly?"

The dirty joke was shared without laughter. Bull gestured him closer, cupping his cheek as they kissed, with tongue. Dorian wasn't going to ask, another Qunari thing he assumed instead. Like sharing desert. He should have asked Bull to buy him dinner instead of paying for it himself.

"You've got a nice ass," Bull complimented, earning a scoff from the mage of Tevinter.

"Ever the romantic, I see."

Bull turned his head and spit on his cock, stroking himself casually so Dorian could see.

Because Dorian hadn't seen, not really. They all took plenty of pisses in the woods but Dorian was never the sort to peak at other's business if pee needs ever lined up. Seeing Bull's business and being involved with that business was an entirely thrilling notion at present, so he was happy to indulge with spectacle.

"Come on," Bull grunted as he wiped his hand along his thigh. Dorian complied, knowing full well a tongue was not adequate enough to prepare him for what was to come. He straddled Bull's lap, the promise of what was to come was very present and touching his inner thigh. Bull made no move to line them up, instead taking the moment to admire Dorian's figure with his hands holding the mage steady at the waist.

His gaze travelled, Dorian could tell Bull enjoyed what he saw for the slight twitch he felt against his thigh. Bull's hands rubbed along his sides a few times before traveling up towards Dorian's chest.

He pinched a nipple, earning a wince, "Open your mouth."

Dorian complied, a thumb pressed in and down on his tongue, dragging his jaw open further.

"Suck." Another command which Dorian complied, earning a satisfied hum from Bull.

More fingers intruded soon enough, Bull's other hand. Dorian opened his mouth, allowing them entrance only to find it was far more difficult to complete the same task as before. He whined, unsure to what end this brought either of them besides giving Bull a nice view. The Qunari stretched his fingers wider in Dorian's mouth. He was drooling everywhere, surely that couldn't be attractive.

All were suddenly withdrawn, earning a groan from Dorian as he rubbed his jaw and cheek. He took a moment to wipe any strings of saliva that hung around his mouth as well. His moustache would surely be in a state of disarray come morning.

A finger pressed against and inside him, causing Dorian to jump, "No warning? Really?"

"You seemed relaxed," Bull mused.

A second pressed against his hole, massaging out any tension caused by the surprise before entering alongside it. Bull had practice, Dorian would definitely give him that as he felt both fingers scissor once inside before any addition of a third, sizeably larger finger. Maybe it was Dorian's imagination but the reach of it wasn't nearly as far. All three pressed out in different directions. Dorian breathed out, anchoring himself on Bull as the warrior's prior support was busied inside and beneath him.

"...Are you using your thumb?"

"Yeah," Bull grunted, testing the limits of how far Dorian could stretch, causing him to cringe when Bull seemed to push it just an ounce to far. Bull removed all digits, "Good. Lower yourself onto me."

Dorian had braced himself on Bull's shoulders, "Really? After all that?"

"Believe me, if I were really have my way with you, you'd be writhing on the bed, begging me to let you come. I'm being generous. This is our first time together and you're drunk. I don't expect you to be aware of your limits like this, at least not entirely," Bull explained matter-of-factly.

"Mm, and you don't feel like you'r taking advantage of me doing this?" Dorian pushed back, glancing down at the space between their bodies.

"I gave you the word. You want this to stop, we stop."

Dorian gripped Bull's cock, guiding it as much as he was guiding himself towards one another until contact was made. His legs were shaking, a control he might have had under normal circumstance but now... It made it that much more difficult to be graceful while going about the entire thing. Bull either was smaller than he assumed or all that thumb theory worked better than Dorian might have ever considered even while sober. He slid down, initially taking it with ease until gravity made it difficult to accommodate control over his own weight, forcing him wide in ways fingers hadn't prepared him. He yelped again, letting out a string of swears.

Bull caught him before he rode the entire cock down to the base, " _Shit_ , you're tight."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Dorian complained, his body tense from too much all at once, "Kaffas! Don't _move_ me! You'll make it worse!"

Bull growled, holding Dorian still, "Then think about butterflies or something and relax a little."

"I'm not about to relax with you growling at me like an animal," Dorian bickered back.

"Then think about me fucking you like one," Bull offered just as aggressively. The worst thing was that his taunt worked. Dorian was back onboard and they both knew it. Bull let out a chuckle.

"Oh, shove it," Dorian groaned and Bull did, letting him slip further. Dorian's groan evolved from annoyance to pleasure.

"Knew you'd be loud," Bull grinned and neither sentence never fully registered in Dorian's head, "Lets get you babbling."

The position changed, from bed to wall, Bull carried him, pushed and pined him against it with arms over his head. This wasn't what Dorian was expecting but they were doing it.

"We can't--" He gasped as he felt stunned by what Bull pushed up into, "Do it -- On the -- wall!"

Bull didn't respond, he only gave a grunt, lowering Dorian to the ground to pull out. A push was all Dorian got, sending him sprawling back towards the bed. Bull was right there, right back where he left off with Dorian bent over. Fast, it was all so fast and the only sound that Dorian could comprehend was the slapping of skin. Any comprehensive thought, like maybe stroking himself off, was completely turned to dust by merely supporting himself from the onslaught of sensations that overcame him.

It didn't take him long to come from that. He was a little less aware at that point, pliable to the hand in his hair, tugging his head up and drawing him back so Bull could mouth his neck and hold his hips. Something was being said but Dorian hadn't the mind to figure out what. The world lost sound entirely for a moment and the bed was entirely too perfect when he found the surface again. Bull collapsed beside him, the bed bounced and Dorian's entire body felt too heavy to move.

Luckily, moving himself wasn't something he needed to do either because Bull seemed eager to help him after his breath recovered. A hand caressed his head, fingers running through his hair as something was uttered. Dorian wasn't sure what, but Bull got up from the bed and pulled the blanket over him. His heart sunk when he heard the door close but he was too tired to do anything but shut his eyes and let sleep pull him under.


	3. Sour Raisins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter include self harm and emetophobia outside the ones listed in the tags

Cullen woke with a gasp, dream vivid and fresh in his mind as he recalled the same dull ache as the night before. A burning in his blood  calling forth real experience and fear.

And an anger.

Blanketed in the darkness, Cullen could feel frustration stemming from where he dreamed a puncture through his chest. Red lyrium, he had become no better than the rest. His hand closed into a fist despite the shaking of his body, dull nails dug so deep they threatened to break skin.

It was late and Skyhold was asleep, but the only desire Cullen had was to bash his head against the wall whether it would wake anyone or not. He couldn't, he wouldn't serve the Inquisition any good by doing such damage to himself.

He settled for slamming his arm into the bed frame instead though it absolved nothing. Screaming was hardly something he ever thought suitable but how satisfying it would be to scream at the top of his lungs in that very moment. He reached for pillow and screamed without an audible voice, raw in a way that produced only the quietest of screeches to satisfy the urge. He kept at it until all he produced was a wheeze, unable to draw enough breath through the pillow. The wheeze lead to a shudder and he crumpled around himself. Anger clung to him, his chest burned with every gasp managed between sobs. He was no better than any demon that once threatened his mind.

His entire body shook, exhaustion real and raw but he couldn't linger. It was too much already, he pulled himself together as much as he could and went about organizing himself as if it were any other morning.

He slid down, dressed with the intent to work. Moving in the dark of his own office was familiar, he struck a match and lit the candle at his desk.

A figure in his peripheral, his hand went to his sword, turning on guard only to yelp, " _Maker's breath!_ - **Cole!!** "

The spirit was standing in his office, in the dark, looking just as surprised as Cullen was to be there. A spirit was quite possibly the very last thing the Commander needed visiting him right now.

"Sorry," Cole apologized, "I just heard-… There was a lot of pain but you don't like spirits. I'm sorry."

Cole started back towards the door before turning right back around, "No -- no. I can't leave. Not yet. There's no one else. If there was someone else it would be better but there isn't. They're all…. _Busy_."

Cullen stood tense in the room, half expecting the other to try something. Anything more than talk would be reason for Cullen to draw, not that he wanted to. Not when the spirit remained in the Inquisitor's good graces. If the Inquisitor hadn't invited the spirit to stay, Cullen would have been within every right to draw his blade.

"Cole, why are you here?"

Cole rocked on his feet, "You were hurting. Red lyrium, it changes people. Makes them monsters - _statues_. You stopped but the fear lingers. Physical and not. There's so much _hurt_ in you."

Cullen remained silent, willing to give the other nothing, Like the demons, the spirit could see into his thoughts. His hand twitched, itched and ached to reach into his desk and pump his blood full so that he might have the strength to protect himself.

"I wish there were someone else," Cole pleaded, "I would leave but if I do, it's too risky. It's there, singing. A voice so tempting and taunting. You keep it there as a reminder but sometimes it whispers to you in such a beautiful voice that you listen, even if you don't ever touch."

Cole hesitated and switched topics, "He moves the knight to F9, hoping you would notice - You do - but he does it thinking you'll call him on it. That… You never do. Any excuse to keep your attention on him. He talks instead. Enjoys the way your eyes wrinkle in the corners when you laugh. It's a good sign. He hopes they'll stay when you get a little older."

Cullen's grip relaxed. The topic wasn't as personal or threatening but he didn't dare lower his guard entirely.

"Sometimes, he says the things he thinks - only joking. He likes the way you rub your neck when interpret it right."

Cullen's sword hand fell away while his left remained, gripping the hilt. Cole was not a threat, he repeated it to himself so he would not feel it necessary to put his hand back.

"Amatus… He said Amatus was a term of endearment, but what he really meant was that its a term for a lover, not a friend," Cole's eyes were peaking out just slightly beneath the rim of his hat though his head was mostly tilted down, "He doesn't want to think of you like that. --No, that's wrong. He does, but he doesn't want to push you away. So he's… found someone else. Someone else to call Amatus so he won't have to call you that."

"What?" Cullen's voice was cutting, enough to make Cole flinch without ever drawing a blade.

"He… didn't want to tell you. I shouldn't have told you. You should forget you heard that." A frown became visible beneath the large hat, "But if you do, you'll be upset again."

"Cole," His voice was commanding, "Please leave."

"...Right," Cole agreed, wasting no time in exiting through the nearest door, letting the wind catch it and pull it shut.

Cullen released a sigh only when he felt completely alone, though he still felt ill. The lingering sensation of having his thoughts picked by a spirit, malicious intent or not, was enough to make him nauseous. The withdrawal plaguing his system was hard enough to deal with but now.

He walked quickly to the window, the sensation of bile rising in his throat.

He vomited where none would likely see.

A definite change in plans, he was going to take a bath and hope he pieced himself together enough to face the day when it finally came.

* * *

 

First thought, 'My mouth feels like a desert'.

Dorian winced, reluctantly opening his eyes to a dark room. Reassuringly the same room he recalled falling asleep in. He glanced about trying to get some sense about himself. Water was probably a good idea.

"You're awake," A low relaxed rumble vibrated against Dorian's head.

His eyes widened, suddenly feeling all the more alert.

"You're were asleep before I got back with the cloth, but your all cleaned up now. Next time. Next time we'll use the proper stuff."

Dorian's head was reeling, the implications were many and the fact that Bull was already planning on a next time made his heart hammer in his chest. He sat up suddenly, still feeling the alcohol strong in his system but not willing to let that stop him.

"…You alright?" Concern worked its way into Bull's voice though Dorian had no idea how to reply. He was still just trying to comprehend everything. They did it. That was real and it felt _good_.

He got to his feet and started getting dressed.

"Hey, you're not planning on leaving already, are you?"

"I just remembered I have an intensely important report to write, one that I was drinking to forget," He latched a buckle, hands shaking as he realized he had acted foolishly while drunk once more. A bad habit he thought he left behind him but evidently that wasn't the case at all. His back was to Bull and he prayed the other didn't notice how badly he was fumbling in an attempt to dress himself. 

Damned belts were so much easier to get off than on.

He gave up, frustrated and annoyed with no one but himself. He spun on his heel trying to recall the fasted route to the tower from the room in which he was presently situated.

"Uhh…. Right. You're going then," Bull watched but made no effort to stop him. Still laying there as Dorian booked it out.

He walked along the wall, trying to fix the shoulder strap that did not want to sit the way it was supposed to. He carried the the detached sleeve of his left in his right hand, tattoo exposed for any and all to see, should they make it out against the darkened sky.

He passed point after point, opened door after door, until he had reached the Commander's office. He didn't even bother to knock, he just pushed it open and announced his presence, "Shortcut! My apologies for intruding upon anything and everything. I'm not looking. Goodnight!"

He kept his gaze at the ground, floor, taking a slight left, blazing right on through. He didn't even know if the Commander was in, though he assumed the man was in given that the room was dimly lit. He crossed to the tower, feeling a chill creep in now that he was in direct path of the wind. He pulled on the sleeve and entered what was arguably the warmest building despite the ever present balcony from above.

He flopped into his chair, never so glad to see the tower so quiet and empty in his life. He shut his eyes, determined to not give anything more to his drunkard state. Even to the dull pain that reminded him that the evenings prior evens were very real, he ignored it. Aware enough of what he was doing and what he had done, all that remained was what he decided to do next. There was hardly any going back and changing things now.

The real question was how to proceed with The Iron Bull.

_The sex was good._

But he didn't want an entirely physical relationship, a realization he had some years ago after experiencing too many drunken tragedies. He stared blankly at whatever lay ahead of him from his seat, positioned for the light, not for the sight. The window was better for that but Dorian didn't feel like gazing out into an abyss of stars. The corner of a bookshelf was a much better descriptor of his mood. The very edge of worn out wood containing materials that carried far too many words. _Or_ , entirely uninteresting object storing an abundance of useless information, waiting to be restocked and/or repurposed. Who even looks at the corner of a bookshelf anyways? He cringed at himself, feeling on the verge of tears.

He knew full well that the indulgence was entirely selfish and self serving. He used Bull so he wouldn't have to confess. It seemed easier than ever admitting his feelings were anything more than friendly flirtations.

Maybe Bull was the same. Maybe all he saw in Dorian was a pretty face and a challenge. The sort that came with the name of an enemy and the face of a friend. Someone he could dominate and undo all the damage those _damned Vints_ did to him. It was all purely speculation, though it was enough to encourage the urge to drink again. Alone, there would be no one to talk to, no words to work their way out and remind him of all the awful things in his life. He was grateful he kept a small supply of liquor in the back corner behind for occasions such as this. He worked reached back and snaked the bottle out so he could indulge in his terrible habits. Returning to his seat and announcing a silent cheer as he held the bottle out to celebrate his own self-loathing. Without a soul to return his cry, not even flap of wings to interrupt the air, he drank.

* * *

 

As the sun rose, Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. He had already declared it a miserable day and it had only just begun. The only up side the day seemed to provide so far was that he had caught up on his work for the time being. Anger was an incredible motivator, and reading over Samson's report only helped fuel that fire. They were getting closer to securing a location with him, but Cullen felt it wasn't nearly fast enough. His impatience made it hard to sit still, his anger caused him to run his quill through the page more than once.

Dorian's interruption had been quick but jarring. Why didn't he greet him as he usually did? Why was there such aversion and speed to his step? Cullen clenched his jaw thinking about it, fearing he knew the answer, fearing that the spirit had been correct.

It wasn't any of his business, he knew that. Dorian's affairs were not his own and he had no reason to interfere with them.

_But if he was suffering…_

Cullen stared out the window, watching the blue blend between so many shades.

He would ask, as a concerned friend. If Dorian wished not to tell him, then there was nothing else for him to do.

He just had to figure out what to say.

The door opened abruptly to reveal the Inquisitor hovering about with hair standing up every which way, clearly in the process of waking up himself. His eyes were barely even open begging Cullen to question whether the man was even awake.

"…Inquisitor?" He greeted the man hesitantly.

"Cullen," He voice was heavy with grog, eyes narrowly open but he was trying, "Have you seen Dorian? I was--" He yawned, "-hinking of quickly running out to harvest more materials."

_That's certainly one way to start the day._

"Why so early?" Cullen placed his left hand over his hilt as the other man had his full attention.

"Crystal Grace," The Inquisitor mumbled, "They only bloom every so often.There's a grove that's full of them and I just remembered."

"And you need Dorian for this?"

The Inquisitor gave a nod, his eyes shut further giving him the appearance of falling asleep on his feet. "He wanted to see them…." The addition of the Inquisitor leaning on the doorframe also didn't help.

"Uh…" Cullen glanced to the door he last saw Dorian go through and back to the sleepy Inquisitor in his doorway, "You've checked his room already, I assume?"

There was the slightest of nods.

"And you've checked his work station?"

There was the slightest shake. No.

"You may want to make that your second destination then."

Trevelyan nodded again, using the door as a means to support and straighten himself before he dragged himself forward. Cullen watched him slowly go, entirely distracting in his own way. It served to lighten the Commander's mood even if just by a degree.

He snickered at the door as it closed behind the Inquisitor, only to realize that he had left the first door open on his journey. Cullen moved quickly to shut it before any breeze tore through and completed the task for him. A secondary wake up call was not something Cullen required so early in the day.

* * *

 

"-rian…"

Someone was shaking him. Dorian groaned, his head was splitting.

"Dorian, wake uppppp!"

"-[ _Maker's balls, why must you shake me so?]-_ "

"…What?"

"Huh?" Dorian opened his eyes to see Trevelyan leaning over him with both hands on his shoulders. The man looked a mess. Dorian squinted at him, perplexed by what the other was doing in his quarters.

"We're going to see the Crystal Grace bloom."

"Oh..!" Dorian had half the mind to respond to that. He responded with closing his eyes and attempting to fall back asleep. An ill advised effort as the Inquisitor began shaking him again.

"S-stop. _Please_ stop or I'll vomit," He warned, already feeling the bile rise into his throat.

The hands ceased their action, "The Crystal Grace are going to bloom, Dorian. Today. The suns nearly up, we're going to miss it."

"Can't we just pick them and try again? How long do they take to bloom? Six weeks..?"

"Drink this," The Inquisitor shoved a potion under Dorian's nose, "Meet me by the gate as soon as your ready and if you don't come, we'll leave without you."

Dorian gave another groan in response to the bottle. For as shitty as he felt, he was awake now and painfully aware he might vomit at any given moment. Trevelyan seemed satisfied with Dorian simply taking the potion, sauntering off in some direction Dorian couldn't make sense of. Everything was spinning and he definitely wasn't in his room.

Dorian drank the bitter mixture, feeling a clash inside his throat before success came in getting it down. He let out a cough and grimace but at least he didn't feel entirely like death now.

"Those Crystal Graces better be worth it," He grumbled to himself, clutching his head as he got to his feet. His back was just the slightest bit stiff, something easily overlooked by the pounding that remained in his head as he sauntered down the stairs and towards the gardens where his chambers lay hidden.

A staff and a robe later, he stood at the gates. Waiting.

Trevelyan arrived moments later, dressed and ready with Sera and Cole in tow.

"Let's move on out then."

Sera gave Dorian one look and started giggling. Dorian didn't get it. He knew he both looked and felt like shit but he didn't feel like either were grounds for mockery.

"Ha ha," He barked bitterly, only erupting more snickers from her.

He supposed it was for the best. Sera and Cole never really got along, making Dorian the middle man for all the attention today. He could take her amusement if it meant relief to whatever possible tensions might erupt between her and Cole. Unless Trevelyan shouldered some. He definitely hoped Trevelyan shouldered some.

He wasn't sure why the other two had agreed to get up at the ass crack of dawn to watch Crystal Grace bloom with them but he wasn't going to ask. They all had their own reasons and that was just fine by Dorian. They took the trek easy, a sack of mixed seeds, nuts and berries passed amongst the group as they hiked along to the spot. Sera was giggling again when Dorian accepted a handful.

"Something particularly funny?" He inquired before nibbling on any nuts.

She snickered, "You. And Bull."

That wasn't at all what he was expected and such fact gave room for stammering, "I-I'm glad it amuses you but what I get from my affairs is--" He paused, not even certain what he was saying before releasing a sigh, "My affair."

Sera's voice was heavy with amusement, "I know what you get. It's like falling through a tree into custard. _Too high!_ Wham! _Too fast!_ Wham! _LEEEAVES!_ Wham! Splat!"

Dorian felt his cheeks getting hot, "I'm not sure what's worse, the mockery or the accuracy…"

"You are Bull are together?" Trevelyan inquired which was basically the same as opening the floor for everyone to pick and prod into Doria's personal affairs.

"Yes," He said sharply, "I suppose we are. Not that it's anyone's business but our own."

"Oh--" Trevelyan hesitated, "I didn't mean to… I just meant - thought rather… Well, it's good that Bull-" He sighed rubbing the back of his neck, "Nevermind."

"Uh huh…." Dorian dismissed the comment. The internal affairs for the Inquisition was coming a touch too complicated for Dorian's liking. He let out another yawn as he started down in the direction of the clearing where the Crystal Grace was assumed to be. They all had their weapons, even if they expected no conflict.

The clearing was small, easily missed if one didn't pass through some bush and overhang covering the entrance. He brushed some of it aside as he stepped through, letting out a gasp at the sight that awaited him. The sun was scattering through the leaves, giving the air a brilliant shade of green and pink, flowers scattered amongst the floor and a large row of bulbous Crystal Grace, not yet bloomed.

"What?" Sera asked following in after him only to gasp as well at the sight, "…That's gorgeous."

"They're singing," Cole declared quietly, "Waiting for drops of rain to drink through the roots."

"Have they bloomed?" Trevelyan asked, stopping short of the crowd to view the before them. His breath caught.

"Nearly," Cole kept his voice low and the four of them stood still waiting for the row of flowers to wake up before them. It was slow, they twisted about gently unfurling slowly as they were sprinkled with sunlight.

"Not often you get to see something like that," Sera's voice was even quieter, almost afraid to be too loud and disrupt the sight before them.

A shared spectacle, one that might not be witnessed by any of them ever again. They glanced from one person to the next before Trevelyan stepped through and began plucking the rare plumage.

A part of their spirits all dropping when the Crystal Grace no longer remained in full bloom.

"If you waited, we could have gotten seeds," Dorian muttered as Trevelyan returned. The Inquisitor looked him over in surprise, "But there are seeds right here."

He opened his hand to show the seed to Dorian.

"Then we plant more."

Trevelyan smiled, "I was thinking a couple in the gardens would be good. Easier to keep an eye on."

"Wouldn't mind some for my room," Sera commented as they started back out of the grove and back to Skyhold.

* * *

 

"Again," Cullen challenged his troops, daring anyone to spar him and those who did, to come at him harder and heavier than before. No strike seemed to be enough. Recruit after recruit deflected and thrust back with his shield before bringing his blade down close enough to feel as threatening as any finishing blow.

"Next!" He sent the recruit off in search of a greater challenge.

The Iron Bull stepped into the ring, "Mind if I join you, Commander? We could give your recruits a real show, get them really pumped up to give their all."

Cullen had only ever sparred with the Mercenary Leader on a few occasions, though never with the aggression he held today. There would be no taking it easy and Bull seemed to recognize that. He did mind The Iron Bull joining, but turning the Qunari away seemed like a foolish idea. He gestured for Bull to step forth and draw his weapon. A nod to signal it was alright to begin and Cullen took the opening strike in stride, narrowly blocked before the blade was thrust off and the blow returned.

Cullen blocked with his shield, feeling the full weight of the blow carried behind it. Cullen's mind kicked up, feeling suddenly as if he were fighting for his life, and Iron Bull, appearing to realize this, cast off his weapon in exchange for a sword and shield. No blood. This was a spar not a real fight.

"Don't hold back," Bull encouraged once he was ready to resume. Cullen took him up on it. Landing blow after blow on blade and block. The edge he had before wore off. He was no longer fighting for his life but merely sparring with a grand adversary. Time slipped away from him as they exchanged blows and trying to break each others defences. It became it's own game, who could break through first. The soldiers started taking bets, wondering if there would ever be a victor but neither seemed willing to let down. Bull broke through first but any winning blow was met by a counter, keeping them at even odds the entire way through. It left them both visibly drained. The burning beneath Cullen's skin was matched only by his need for breath. He spat off to the side and wiped the sweat from his brow as he settled on it being a draw.

Blade sheathed and he set the shield down before going to shake Bull's hand, "Good match."

His grasp met, a hand gripped his shoulder appreciatively, "You can say that again."

There was something entirely reassuring about that. A grip so firm and large, Cullen let out a breath, feeling his hair settle out of place from the long match, "Don't think I've had a match like that long in awhile." He turned to his troops, "Work on your stamina, improve your basics and know your limits. I don't need any of you spraining a muscle from pushing yourselves too far. Partner up and practice. Your captains will be around should you have any questions."

There was a resounding affirmation as the troops got to work. He rubbed the back of his neck and started for the baths, Bull followed on his heels, "That first blow you made… That wasn't a sparring strike."

Cullen tried to recall which Bull mean, "...When we started?"

"Yeah, you went for my left," Bull explained, "Fast."

The Commander struggled to find some justification for himself, but there was none. He apologized instead, "Sorry… I think I just got a little carried away."

"At the _beginning_ of the match," Bull pointed out, "Is there something you'd bothering you, Commander?"

Cullen stopped, nearing the baths but fairly certain Bull would follow him all the way there if he didn't address the argument now, if it was even that, "No, I mean-Its not you." He rubbed his arm, where the bandage sat beneath his uniform. Healed, it wasn't enough to ground him anymore. "That was… Beneath me. I haven't been sleeping well lately and Cole was in my corridors when I woke."  
He bit his tongue trying to find the words, "It was… unsettling."

Bull studied him silently, abruptly taking the lead as he began walking again. It appeared as though Cullen would have company regardless of his intention to bathe alone.

"Yeah, demons and spirits and crap aren't exactly anyone's idea of a good way to start the day," Bull grunted, "Unless your that Solas guy. Sure he'd have gotten a kick out of it."

Cullen didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to wash off the sweat and grime from his body and return to whatever more mundane duties he had to attend to for the day. Thinking about anything too much, made his blood feel like it should be boiling, so he focused on the eventual dull prospect of writing letters to appease nobles. Bull stripped down first, and unlike before, there was nothing about the sight that came as a surprise or caught Cullen off guard. There was nothing curious about the other warrior's body, just as there was nothing curious about Cullen's. It was part of a routine, casual and expected from those who worked and fought together. It was a routine that Cullen hadn't indulged in with company since Kirkwall, though the memories of such agonized him.

He sat on a stool and rinsed out his hair, pushing such thoughts away. This wasn't Kirkwall. There was no Knight-Commander present to encourage so much hate and rage, not even as a statue.

"You hurt yourself?" Bull asked suddenly, drawing Cullen's consciousness back to the present.

"Huh?"

"Your arm," Bull gestured to Cullen, giving him a moment to register exactly what Bull meant.

"Oh, no. It's just a light scratch," He explained, getting to his feet and moving to the bath so that the water might help him in removing the bandage, "I figured it was best to not take any risks."

Bull gave him a look of subtle disbelieving, "Uh huh. This isn't about that lyrium stuff, is it?"

Cullen stilled.

"Cause I've heard that shit packs of punch."

"I don't take it anymore," Cullen voice shrunk, picking at the bandage.

A silence fell over them, Bull gave a grunt, "That explains it."

"What does?"

"The attitude. Withdrawal," Bull said it like he was entirely familiar, "In the Qun, we don't have anything _quite_ like that but you'll still get the odd person who gets into something _bad_. When that happens, they get help. But getting them off it can be as bad as allowing them to continue, not always but sometimes. All kinds of side affects. Some of the shit I saw in Saharen…" He let out a dejected if not frustrated sigh. He shook his head, "Force fed all kinds. Death is sometimes easier than any alternative."

Cullen could feel a chill creep up his spine. The implications were heavy. "It hasn't been easy… But the Inquisitor has confidence that I should be able to carry out my duties without taking it."

"Yeah, the sentiment is nice but it doesn't do much for the person struggling through it," Bull gave him a look, "How are you handling?"

"…Some days are worse than others."

"And today?"

"…Bad," he confessed quietly, feeling his fingers shake beneath the water's surface.

"How do you usually cope with it?"

Cullen shut his eyes to think about it, "Whatever I can. Work, mostly. Sometimes stand where there's a strong breeze."

"It makes your body feel like it's on fire?"

"-All the time," He cringed at how weak his own voice sounded.

Silence dragged around them though Cullen wished it had the pressure to crush him instead. Anything to get rid of the burning need in his veins.

Strong fingers found his skin instead, pushing in and pushing out any points of tension. It startled his eyes open, unsure what it was Bull was doing.

"Relax," Bull's voice instructed instead, "If it ever gets bad, and I mean really bad, you come see me. I'll make sure you get taken care of."

Cullen wasn't sure what the invitation entailed but there was one spot Bull hit that earned a groan. Bull chuckled, "Yeah, you've got a lot built up back here. When was the last time you took some time off?"

Cullen felt like that was a far more loaded question than it aught to have been, "I… was at the tavern just the other night."

Bull let out a laugh this time, "Right then, so it's been awhile."

The pat on his back was nothing like the ones he witnessed Dorian receive, but it was entirely possible that he was more weathered to such hardy actions.

"You come to my room sometime and I'll make sure all that tension melts away. And if you ever need anything else, I can do that too," Bull offered, taking his leave of the bath, "Take it easy, Commander."

* * *

 

Being sober and off his ass, Dorian had forgotten entirely about the displeasure of sitting down on two bruised cheeks. Something that he was sorely reminded of when he returned to his chair to begin a day of progress.

"Maker's mighty fucking balls!" He swore so vehemently that it echoed through the tower. It was entirely probable and possible that his colorful tongue did not appeal to all ears in the vicinity as he did indeed obtain a glare or five from those sharing the floor with him. In all honesty, he was just grateful Mother Giselle wasn't present to scold him as she was so very eager to do with everything else. His sacrilege and unmatched prestige for making everything inherently 'questionable' was truly a work of art. He just wished it had more benefits.

Dorian was up on his feet again, very much eager to _not_ encourage more pain than necessary, paced about and swore he heard a snicker come from Solas's sanctum below.

_Fine, whatever. Let him have his fun._

Dorian took to reading by the window for the time being seeing as he couldn't enjoy the comfort of his chair, which smelt entirely more like alcohol and only the slightest bit like Orlais. A grand improvement given where it had been the day prior.

He remained diligent, reading and writing a great deal of things up until he realized he was in desperate need of one of the books Vivienne promised to return in the evening, or was it tomorrow evening? In either case, he needed it now before the pursuit of knowledge died out, so he left his little hole in the wall and made his way over to the elaborate set up Vivienne had near the second story balcony, overlooking just about everything inside and out.

"Vivienne," He greeted he casually, "That book on the accounts of slavery--"

She cut him off, "Will be returned to you precisely as I've stated."

"Yes, well, I need it now. Only for a few minutes. You don't appear to be making use of it at the moment so I'd hardly think you'd miss it."

She gave him nothing short of a disinterested glare, as if he were completely wasting her time. Dorian fought the urge to roll his eyes over such intense pretentiousness. There were moments where the two of them got along just fine but all in all, Dorian hardly saw eye to eye with her. Sure, if he had the opportunity, and he nearly did, to become Knight-Enchanter of some sort he would have taken it. But he wouldn't have slandered the opportunity by internalizing the notion that mages were inherently dangerous and damning them all to be locked up in circles. He had a feeling there was a lot of self loathing linked to the fact Vivienne waved such a topic around like a sword.

"You've one hour, Darling. Don't keep me waiting," She handed off the book and Dorian accepted it graciously.

"One hour, you've got it."

Dorian may have gotten a bit too caught up in his readings, scribbling out notes and cross referencing with the journals he had been scouring through. He wouldn't have even realized his book was overdue for its return of Solas hadn't come up and strolled by, "A Tevinter Mage studying up on slavery. Interesting. Come to update yourself on the atrocities of you society or are you looking to find new applications?"

Dorian gave Solas a disbelieving squint. He knew the fashion of his homeland immediately coded him as 'evil' upon sight but he really had to wonder when it labelled him a proper target for all slander.

"I was rather hoping I could use this information to right wrongs actually. It's all filled with incredible hypocrisies and fallacies. If I word it right then maybe, just maybe I can… What was it you said? Free every slave? Yes, I think returning my homeland and starting a revolution is beginning to sound like a grand plan. To do that though, I need to have my facts in order and ensure nothing's been overlooked."

"I'm impressed," Solas sounded genuinely so, "I didn't think you would take what I said to heart."

"Yes, well when you're ostracized by society, it makes it ever so easy to see where all one's wrong doings are. I'm already a disappointment to my father so I figure this would be a grand way to piss him off further."

Whatever optimism Solas held in his voice quickly slipped away, "I see. So your not doing this for the benefit of the people."

"…Quite the contrary," Dorian narrowed his eyes, "I am doing it entirely for the people, it's simply not without personal benefits on top of that."

"And what is you plan of action? Approach the Magesterium and preach the prospects of paid labour?"

"No," Dorian frowned, "Not initially at least. Pressure needs to be applied from beneath first. They'd have to see benefit in pursuing such actions before actually going through with anything. And then there's the whole superiority complex aided which may take centuries to unlearn. It's a delightful little mess." He added a hit of sarcasm onto the end. Thinking of actually seeing it through, actually fronting such a movement was incredibly intimidating yet thrilling. Dorian was hoping his actions wouldn't get him killed the first week of his return.

"You're efforts would be appreciated by a great many people," Solas encouraged him, "There are very few who have attempted to do what you are claiming to pursue, and even less have succeeded. Many more would benefit from your openness to accept such information without speaking over the voices of the oppressed. Additionally, you should not use your privilege to take the voices away from those you are trying help, use it only as you claim you are planning to. To help those with more narrow views accept information they might not otherwise."

This was likely the most pleasant conversation they had shared in some time. Dorian was amazed, "Certainly. Thank you for the advice, Solas."

"It's not advice I am offering you," Solas discounted, "It is fact. Often times in situations such as these, those with more privilege wield it to make themselves historical figureheads, abandoning the cause they initially supported along the way. That or they end up dead. You may become no better than the Magesterium if you do not maintain a level head and solidarity with those you are trying to bring justice."

Dorian cringed at the thought, "Right… Well, I should return this to Vivienne. I'm certain I've kept it longer than the time it was allotted to me."

"I wish you well then," And Solas carried onwards towards whatever it was he had come upstairs to do.

* * *

 

Cullen had sent a scout out in his stead, taking a moment in his day to offer a confession. He knelt at the hem of Andraste's dress, hands folded, head down. Quiet, muttered under his breath, he confessed to the things he might not ever offer another mortal soul. His anger, his disappointment, his frustrations and more. Samson had been a pleasant man in the time he knew him, but to know how far he had fallen, it hurt Cullen. There should have been a way to help him. There was no reason it should have come to this. Samson was in Kirkwall, he knew what Red Lyrium could do and yet now he was leading an army in direct opposition.

He confessed to his dreams, sultry and impure. He sullied the corpse of a beautiful woman in his mind, without shame, without second thought. It disgusted him as much as it left him aroused and he hated himself for that. He hated himself for so much but he had to believe that he was a better man now. He had the ability to strengthen the world, lend help to those who could patch the hole in the sky and give hope to those who wished not to be dependant on the drug that once gave them great strength. He had already decided who he would be, and with that reaffirmed, he rose.

Exiting the sanctuary, he was greeted by Mother Giselle.

"Offering a prayer, Commander?" She inquired gently.

He gave a nod though that was hardly the truth. Another confession for another time.

"That is good, it gives those here who believe the teachings great strength to see their leaders habitually visiting the statue."

Cullen gave a small smile, "Well, it seems all those on top are relatively devout, even if not all make a habit of it. Leliana and Cassandra are quieter with their prayers, though perhaps more frequent. I believe its due to their relationship with the Divine."

"But it is rare to see them visit the statue quite as often as you do," Giselle folded her hands, "They do not like to let their devotion be a source of attention, but you do not shy away. It is reassuring."

"It's habit. I spent much time with the Chantry, became a young man within it's walls. Its familiar to me," He offered a curt smile, "I could not imagine living in a space that did not a visage of Andraste present for me to visit regularly."

"It does feel a little more like home with her watching over all of us."

Cullen gave a nod, catching Dorian enter the garden from the corner of his eye, "Excuse me, Mother. I'm afraid my company has arrived but it was very nice speaking with you, however brief."

"As it was with you, my child," She bowed her head, taking leave though not far. She remained in the garden speaking with others who were of the faith.

The conversation gave Cullen little time to put his thoughts in order upon greeting Dorian and walking with him to the gazebo. Easing from one topic to the next seem like a far better idea than simply ramming bluntly into what he had hoped to discuss with Dorian since this morning.

"Are you devout, Dorian?" Cullen ask as they took their respective seats. Dorian always took white, which meant he always had the first move, an edge Cullen offered to challenge himself. Dorian had never voiced any disapproval of such silent arrangments.

"That's a rather bold question to enter in on," Dorian chuckled, " _Are you devout?_ That depends. Yes, I am, but there are certain differences in the teachings between here and Tevinter. Why do you ask?"

"Mother Giselle was telling me how good it was to see one of _our leaders_ visiting the statue on a regular basis," Cullen eyed the board, waiting for Dorian to move his piece. It took awhile. He was far more focused than he had their last few games, intent on winning, Cullen supposed. It earned a grin, "Said it was boosts moral."

"Well, then that must be true," Dorian seemed to finally decide on a piece, moving it forward with certainty, "Anyone who feels they're of lesser value wants to see reflections of themselves in those who are considered 'higher up'. It lends itself to the very exciting notion of  _That could be me_. A very appealing and powerful thought. It makes people feel important, regardless of the role they play."

Cullen considered it as he considered the board, moving a piece in a simpler display, "And you don't think of visiting the statue yourself?"

Dorian hovered over the board, "I do, just when nobody is present. I've been active enough in the affairs of the Inquisition to know that everyone gossips like hens about me if I so much as hold my fork differently. My presence by the statue would likely do more damage than support to moral."

Another piece moved, Cullen leaned back with a hand on his chin, "Are the rumours really that bad?"

Dorian scoffed, "Bad? Merely my comfortable friendship with the Inquisitor was enough for Mother Giselle to question our 'intimacy' if you can even call it that. My entire being is entitled to scandal after scandal."

"I'm sorry," Cullen apologized, feeling sympathetic for the countless struggles that must bring. He leaned forward and countered the move he assumed Dorian was gradually lining up to make.

"It's not so bad," Dorian sighed, clearly defining that it was just as bad as Cullen assumed it must be, "Everyone will consider me radical and outlandish to the point that I'll either be erased by history or embellished for having changed it. As ridiculous as that sounds."

Cullen wondered if that would be true for all of the Inquisition's members, though perhaps the case Dorian made stood out more for those who were already at a primary disadvantage. The chances the Inquisitor, Lelianna, Cassandra, Josephine and himself had for being erased were slim, but just about the entirety of the Inner Circle with exception of Vivienne perhaps ran the risk of being run out of the story.

A hand distinctly not Cullen's own moved a black piece. It was difficult to keep the smile from his face. Perhaps… Just perhaps he'd call Dorian on it this time just to see.

"Are you cheating?" His eyes trailed from the hand up to Dorian's face, who smiled like a child caught with his hand directly in the cookie jar.

The piece was returned to it's position, "No, not at all. Why ever would you think that?"

"Oh, it must be my imagination then because I could have just sworn your hand went to the wrong piece," He was grinning now too, enjoying their banter.

Dorian gave a shrug with his hands up, "Did it? I must have slipped. My apologies, Commander."

Cullen noted the piece that Dorian had moved with it turn and quickly moved the piece Dorian had tugged forth, returning it to the space with his own turn. It might have been a poor move or a great one, but Cullen wasn't really concerned with which at present. He was entirely satisfied with the move for reasons all his own. His gaze raised to meet Dorian's, expecting to be met with a similar giddiness.

He was still smiling though the expression he wore with it appeared entirely pained. Cullen's stomach sunk.

"Dorian," He asked hesitantly, "Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes." He quickly moved another piece, "I just… Recalled something unfortunate."

Cullen wanted to press, he wanted to hear it from Dorian. He still hadn't decided what his feelings were for the other man, all he knew was that he enjoyed his company and didn't wish to give that up for anything.

He changed topics instead, "Did you know the Inquisitor passed through my office this morning trying to find you?"

"What? No," Dorian's expression changed, the pain cleared up like a passing patch of clouds.

Such was read it as a good sign and so he continued, "Yes, I suspect he was hardly even awake himself at the time."

"But you were?"

Cullen gave a small smile, "Unfortunately."

"I should thank you then," Dorian hummed, "Had you not pointed the Inquisitor my way, I wouldn't have been able to witness such an incredible sight this morning."

"You're quite welcome," Cullen moved another piece, though he couldn't find the heart to ask what he initially intended to.

The game concluded with Dorian's victory, predisposed confidence was all about him.

"Good game, Commander," He offered a hand as he always did, win or lose.

Cullen accepted it without hesitation, "Good game."

Dorian had not tried to cheat through the entire match with exception for the one, which Cullen called him on. It solidified the suspicion Cullen held all along, Dorian was a very capable opponent, but hindered himself for cheap tricks. Though maybe they weren't as cheap as they seemed, living up to some secondary purpose that Cullen was coming to see more and more clearly.

An unnamed emotion swelled up inside him, so he added another hand to their shake, clasped overtop with unvoiced gratitude.

Dorian smiled, so warm in it's own way that Cullen could describe it as nothing but nurturing. Duty as the loser took over, he cleaned up the board after letting his grip fall.

"It's nearly dinnertime, will you be heading to the dining hall for a bite to eat?" Cullen inquired casually as he sorted the pieces and stored them away, glancing up but briefly to see what expression his question received.

Contemplation, "I suppose that would be a good idea. Can't quite recall the last time I sat down there. Usually just end up sneaking things out or eating in the bar instead."

Cullen gave him a startled look, "But all they have is meat and bread."

"And cheese," Dorian tacked on, "Deliciously aged Ferelden cheese."

That earned a smirk from the blond, "I had no idea you were such a connoisseur of such things."

"Well, with tastes as refined as my own, I should hope most would know to expect variety."

Cullen chuckled, tucking the board under his arm, "Care to join me at the dining hall then? You can tell me all about your refined tastes in great detail then."

"..Sure," there was slight hesitation, but Cullen assumed it was merely due to the abruptness of it all.

He rose and set the chairs aside with Dorian's assistance before they started off in the direction of the hall.

* * *

 

This was an _outing_ , as Sera had put it. No planning, you just go. Dorian understood the difference now but it did nothing to ease his nerves or calm the hurricane in his head.

The Commander was _not_ flirting, the Commander did not even like men - as far as Dorian knew. This was a friendly outing, one where they would talk about cheese and enjoy a meal and then go their separate ways. Nothing would come from it outside of some simple getting to know each other, that was all Dorian could really hope to ask for anyways.

They found a table with enough room available for the two of them, plus the chess board Cullen carted between games. Conversation was indulged, Dorian discussed his many preferences of cheese in great detail. As mundane as the topic may have seemed, Cullen appeared entirely enthralled.

"When I was in the Circle, cheese was so hard to come by. The mages would always make requisitions for it but it was hard to find a local supplier," Cullen explained, "We could never bring too much in at once because most things were brought over by boat or raft and it always went so quickly."  
"If you wanted any, you literally had to eat it as soon as it arrived otherwise others would be happy to do it for you," Cullen mused over the memory, "I swear one of the mages would steal pieces just to leave crumbs in the corner so the cat had mice to catch."

Dorian's attention was captured. Cullen had only ever mentioned his time in the Circle briefly before. He never actually spoke much of any experiences he had while there. He didn't seem to speak much of his history much at all outside of the few choice sample pieces of his time from the Chantry and perhaps a bit before that. Kirkwall seemed entirely out of bounds as a topic, one Dorian had no interest of touching on after reading Varric's Tale of the Champion. He itched to know more about the man sitting before him but to pry him for such details seemed ill fit. He spoke of his own experience instead.

"I've only been to a circle briefly in my life. It was horrendous and there weren't any templars but that wasn't the reason for my miserable experience," He joked, "I would constantly challenge my teachers and didn't pick things up the way they taught it to me. I got made fun of on a regular basis as a result and was kicked out within the year for getting in a fight with a peer. When my father found out, he had me tutored and I never went back."

Cullen stilled, "I never really… Every circle is different, I suppose. Templars were never allowed to associate with the mages much, specially before they have their harrowing."

"Yes, I believe you mentioned something similar before," He nibbled on a grape.

A nod was given and the topic was dropped.

They had to have more common ground than just chess and circles. Dorian fussed over finding a topic that would be suitable for conversation, one that wouldn't dig into areas of discomfort.

"Didn't expect to see the two of you dining together," Dorian stiffened, voice recognized and fearing the impending conversation that might come. The bench dipped to accommodate the weight next to him and he did his best to maintain an indifferent expression. "How are you doing?"

Dorian glanced over to the Iron Bull, plate full with a rather sizeable portion of food. His eyes trailed up slowly, matched and met with a loose grin.

He was failing, he could feel his cheeks flaring already. _The gall of this man…_

He was surprised when Cullen responded first, "Better. What about yourself?"

Bull gave a shrug, "I've got a lot more free time on my hands now that I don't have as many reports to write, and with your troops practicing… It's been a slow day."

"You're welcome to practice with them. I'm sure you have more than a few pointers you could give them. It might be insightful."

"Yeah? I'll have to do that then. Could be good."

Dorian wasn't sure if he was relieved or furious to be completely pushed out of the conversation, until Bull's attention seemed to shift, "And what about you, Dorian? How are you doing today?"

Heat creeped under his collar and he sputtered, "I'm fine, thank you very much."

He reached for a pitcher and glass. Wine, it was now the time for wine.

Bull's expression shifted from amused to irritated in the mildest of ways. _Good,_ Dorian thought as he sipped up his drink, feeling spiteful for reasons he was afraid to identify to himself. Maybe he should adopt the Commander's devout position and confess but drowning himself in liquor seemed so much more appealing.

Bull pushed the topic, "You're not a very good liar."

"Really? I thought I was quite skilled at spouting bullshit on the regular," He found something else to nibble on. A raisin bun. A little sweet but still good.

He could feel Cullen's eyes glancing between the two of them, reading tension but unsure of the cause. He needed to go before the Commander pieced things together.

"If I did something wrong…" Bull started, his voice low, challenging.

Dorian sprung to his feet before another word could be uttered, "This is a conversation best held in private, wouldn't you agree? I certainly think so. If you really want us to talk about this then you can come find me later when there's less accompaniment."

" _Dorian_..."

"Is leaving because we are not discussing this here right now," He announced taking the cup of wine with him, "Sera already knows, as does the Inquisitor, so I suspect the rest of Thedas already knows, and if they don't, surely they will by nightfall. _Congratulations_ , you're a terrible spy."

It was a low blow, he knew that, but he couldn't help his venomous tongue sometimes. Least of all when he was upset over something seemingly insignificant like his own hurt.

He walked away in grand strides, hearing only a defeated, "Yeah. ... _Was,_ " behind him.


	4. Lavender Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank those of you who have left kudos, comments and the like! it means a lot to me and i appreciate it immensely.  
> this chapter feels like a lot of filler. my apologies. it was a hard one to piece together when there's so much more i want to focus on but that comes after.

Foolish, he was being foolish. He already put the book down four time only to pick it up again, pace around with it and repeat. He couldn't focus. He had screwed himself over by falling for the very picture of a Fereldan Farm Boy who was all but married to the Chantry and his work. Along with everything that life tended to encourage, Dorian did  _actually_ screw himself by engaging in what he knew wouldn't be a one time fling with a Qunari.

He found himself to be so pitiful that it was difficult not to laugh at himself over the fact. He was sure there were plenty of people who would have loved to do that for him but he saved them all the trouble by letting a miserable chuckle slip out of him regardless.

"Low and pathetic," He muttered in following. Book up, book down.

It was apparent he wasn't getting any more work done this evening. He was so fickle, it was horrendous. How did anyone ever manage to put up with him? He had no idea. He made one last attempt at the book.

'…infants and mothers sold…'

He put the book back down. He couldn't deal with reading that right now so he collected the cup he had carried with him from dinner and set back downstairs. Enough time had passed since dinner that he could expect the hall to be mostly clear and if not, then it was very likely clear of Cullen and Bull which were the only two of concern in his mind. He jogged down the stairs with only a passing remark of, "Evening, Solas."

No 'good'. It wasn't a _good_ evening so he just avoided it all together. Saved the Solas the effort of calling him on something else. Dorian took very little pride in that.

He passed Varric in the hall, some sort of greeting was passed but didn't think to return it.

He stormed into the tavern, goblet still in hand as he approached Bull, "You want to talk, we're going to talk. Right now, upstairs."

He said nothing more, turning on his heel and made his way up. Not a second wasted waiting on a response.He was in control and he wasn't drunk, just angry.

He set the cup on a table he passed on his way to the room up top, half wondering if the liquid ash was still where he had left it. It probably wasn't safe to drink in any case given he had forgotten the lid.

He could hear Bull starting up the stairs after him though it wasn't with the same tone as the night before. Dorian wasn't really in the mood to have his clothes stripped off in any case, no matter how enjoyable the sex.

He waited but briefly as Bull joined him in the secluded room, "Alright, you want to tell me what _that_ was all about? Just for starters."

"What? Just now or in the dining hall?"

" _Both_."

Dorian folded his arms across his chest, jaw clenched. He didn't want to come off more spiteful than he was. It wasn't his fault, Bull hadn't done anything inherently wrong. "You wanted to talk, and I'm…" He sighed, feeling the composure he had entered with slipping. He was becoming emotional and he hated that. Breath flared through his nose as he wiped at his eyes, " _Fuck._ I fucked up. That's all. I just thought that maybe it would help that if we slept together, that it would somehow make things alright and it didn't. So now I'm upset but I _don't_ blame you, I'm just.."  
His voice quivered, "Just… Trying to work through it."

Bull's voice was gentler than he expected, "I was worried. When you left last night I thought maybe I went too far."

He moved across the room and took a seat on the bed, patting for Dorian to join him, "Come sit."

Dorian did, not sure what else to do.

"That word I gave you, it's not just for physical limits. If you need to stop for any reason, mental, emotional, whatever it is, say it. Say Katoh."

"….Katoh," Dorian mumbled, wiping at his eyes again.

"Good," Bull wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder, "Now, do you want to _really_ tell me what this is all about or am I going to have to start putting the dots together on my own?"

He hesitated, feeling his jaw clench as he tried to work himself through how to phrase it, "I… used you as a means to an end. I'm sorry."

"And?"

"And I'm really fucking in love with someone else, but that's never going to happen so…"

"You're with me," Bull chuckled.

"How's it feel to be the consolation prize?" Dorian joked, still trying to work past the tears.

"Shitty," Bull admitted, "But at least you're being honest with me, that's a start. And if you want to keep this prize then I get some sweet 'Vint ass out of the deal."

Dorian snorted, "Is that all you think about?"

"Only when you're in the room," He was smirking when Dorian looked up.

It was strangely heartwarming. He tossed out, "Bull cock" as a means of calling Iron Bull on his insincerity.

"That's what I plan to give you," A quick reply earning a snort,"...So you'll think about it?"

"I'll think about it," Dorian confirmed, "And if there is a next time, I'm not allowed to be drunk for it."

It was something little, like a crumb from home that seemed to warm Bull right back up. He pressed a kiss to Dorian's temple, "I'll make sure of it."

Maybe this would be okay. Bull was warm and big and surprisingly comfortable. Dorian let his head rest against Bull's shoulder for a little while.

* * *

 

It wasn't until Cullen was back in his office that he really thought about what happened. With Bull present, he had found himself looking forward to more conversations, conversations that were briefly engaged upon until Dorian took his leave abruptly. They resumed after though he was still concerned.

"All of Thedas," He mumbled, turning over his papers before realization slammed into him.

He thought Dorian was no longer interested, or at least that was what he had said the last time they spoke. Things change, he shouldn't be one to jump so quickly to assumptions without either party saying anything on the matter. It wasn't his place.

What was suitable of his position was perhaps writing his sister, though every time he tried, it came out either too short or disgustingly personal. Mia deserved to know he was getting by, that she was missedbut he very well couldn't give her much more than that. 

He grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and sat down.

_Dear Mia,_

_I'm getting by. Sorry for not having written at all in the past several months._

He stopped himself there so he wouldn't get carried away with mundane details. There was so much he wanted to tell her but knew he couldn't.

_We should catch up sometime, preferably after the hole in the sky is patched up._

He scratched out the last sentence and started again.

_Dear Mia,_

_Did you know the kitchen staff has a fondness for oatmeal here? It tastes like hay, but some days they switch it up a bit and add apples or cinnamon. Never together. It's quite peculiar._

_Best Regards,_

_Cullen_

He started at the letter after he had wrote it and scoffed at it, crumpling the page and casting it aside. It seemed like Mia would have to wait awhile longer for any response. Each time he tried to write Mia these sort of things he wondered if it was enough or not nearly enough at all.

He sighed, wishing there was some way he could see her in person but such a trip would take too much time away from the Inquisition. He couldn't allow himself such luxuries yet. Not until Corypheus was defeated and Samson was at the very least, captured.

 _Or she could come here…_ But that was a thought vanquished just as quickly as it had come. Skyhold was safe and home to much of the Inquisition, inviting his own family out seemed selfish and haphazard. He massaged the bridge of his nose with a groan.

There was very little left to do that he hadn't already completed earlier. He could take the evening off, he supposed. The Inquisitor was to be heading out in the morning so any meetings by the War Table would likely not occur until he returned. It gave him an abundance of time to check on all states of things. Like bridge reconstruction and that urban legend he had scouts collecting herbs for. Quill and ink set aside, he rose to his feet. The sky was overclouded, which meant it would very likely rain.

He stared up at the gap in his ceiling with some concern for the things he kept up there. So long as it came down straight, it would be fine but it very rarely ever did. Snow was far more preferable in that case but with the weather warming, he doubted he'd be graced with such.

Maybe he should get it patched, or at the very least put a tarp over it for the time being. He went around to make last minute arrangements for such, making certain that anything else which might require extra fastening would be done before the majority went to bed for the night.

It was nice when it snowed. It ever only just coated the surrounding area and tumbled out. Something graceful and quiet about it one a good day, and stuck to everything when it wasn't. It was the sort of cold that he liked, but rain just soaked everything. Soaked through and made everything slick in a must unpleasant way. If it wasn't he resting area than he'd hardly mind as much but the prospect of sleeping in a moulding bed was most uninviting. He went to the stables and returned to secure the tarp over the hole. Satisfied with his temporary patch job, he blew out the candles in his office and took his leave.

It was already a long day but he hardly felt tired. He actually sort of felt like running around the wall but that was far too peculiar a thing to do at any hour. It would certainly draw far more attention to him than say if he were to burn off the same energy running up and down the tower. He didn't doubt there were still too many present there for him to feasibly get away with that at the moment but maybe in a few hours when more people retreated to bed or the Herald's Rest.

Cullen settled on retreating to the second, maybe Varric would be present for a game of Wicked Grace. Maker knows he was terribly rusty on allthe rules, so a reminder would be nice. It could be good.

He might be able to get a better idea of what Bull meant when he extended that offer from earlier as well. With two reasons to go, Cullen wasted no time crossing Skyhold under the dark grey sky, seemingly darker than most nights with the stars blocked out. 

"Commander, this is a rarity," Lacy was sitting near the door as he came in, "Here to relax like the rest of us?"

"For today," He offered with a small shrug, "Do you know if Varric is in?"

"I think he's up near the top floor if he's here at all. I didn't really speak with him. He seemed… busy," Her eyes narrowed and Cullen tried to push the thought of him conversing with that demon out of his head.

"Well, thank you anyways," He excused himself and crossed the bar, to where Krem was situated with a few of his fellow Chargers. Bull was absent.

Two strikes, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck wondering if he just had bad timing.

"You looking for someone, Commander?" Krem piped up, "Bull's busy at the moment but we can keep you company if you're willing to wait around. Grab a stool."

Cullen's eyes followed Krem's gesture to a spare stool which he brought over and took a seat.

"We were swapping stories," Krem grinned, "The same shit stories we've been swapping since we became a company for the most part, plus a few."

Stitches leaned forward over his drink, "We could use a fresh one. Bull's been telling those of us that weren't present how good that bee story is. Won't shut up about it now. Any opportunity he gets, he leans in with--"

"Have you heard about the time Sera put a hive in the Commander's training dummy?" They all said in unison with their best (or maybe worst) impersonations of Iron Bull.

Laughter quelled up between them, something Cullen felt was infectious and joined along, "It's really not that great of a story, at least not in my experience. But if you want a good one, I should tell you about when I was under training to become a templar…"

He had them hanging off his every word. There was nothing more entertaining than throwing the present King of Fereldan under the carriage as he just had, even without name or mention to the fact. To his audience, Alistair was merely some unfortunate soul who took an incredibly embarrassing moment exceedingly well. He had the Chargers howling, which lead to more stories, a lot more than he ever thought he might share.

Like catching a mage with his robes up in the tower.

"The other one took off just like a lightening bolt," Cullen exclaimed, "I gave them a count to three and that one did not waste it." He clapped his hand to demonstrate, "And off they went, leaving the other fellow behind. He took his sweet time, I suppose he wasn't so concerned with being caught, that or he was so used to it by now that it had become routine."

Stitches and Rocky were laughing, but Dalish was simply shaking her head.

"The worst part was he had the gall to proposition me right after I had just caught him going at it with someone else," He chuckled, embarrassed over the fact, "Instead, I promised not to write him up so long as I never caught him with his robes above his knees. About a week later, he up and disappeared from the tower entirely."

Cullen didn't want to associate the person he'd met on sparse occasions in Kirkwall with the one he knew vaguely in the Circle.

"He became an apostate?" Dalish inquired.

Cullen brought a drink to his mouth, side-tracked by thought, "That or he was killed, I imagine…"

Krem seemed to sense that the Commander was headed somewhere that may have been considered too deep, banging his flagon twice to stir up some attention, "I've got one, remember that beast with the one eye?"

"The giant or the Iron Bull?" Rocky grinned.

* * *

 

Cullen lost count of how many drinks he had indulged in but knew it was climbing towards what he had the other night when he came with Dorian, who he hadn't seen since dinner. Nor had he seen the Iron Bull, although the Charger's claimed he was sure to be around again at some point. Varric made his appearance first, climbing down the stairs to earn a roar in greeting from the group. He waved to them, almost in passing but he took some time to stop and see how everyone was doing.

"No Wicked Grace for tonight, your grace?" Krem inquired with a sloppy grin. Drunk, Cullen concluded, though he really wasn't much further behind.

Varric laughed, "Unfortunately not. Should've made a notice but it seems like you've all found a way to get on without me. Nice to see you being social, Curly."

Cullen bowed his head to the writer, "And you've become the recluse. It seems we've swapped roles."

"Now that would make for an interesting story," Varric laughed, "But I'm afraid this old man is best retiring early for the night."

"Awww, come on, Varric," Krem complained, "Tell us at least one story before you go!"

There was a chuckle from Varric as he took a seat, "Alright, alright but just one."

He weaved a story in the simplest of ways, exaggerating it just enough to get the best reactions while maintaining the structure upon which it was all built. It had everyone hollering and was clearly one of Varric's favourites as his grin only broadened throughout, "After that, well… The Viscount never extended an invitation for Hawke to attend any of his personal gatherings again."

"And with that," Varric rose to his feet, "I should be off. Busy day tomorrow."

There was an 'Awwww' in unison from the Chargers, making Cullen smile around is drink.

"I know, I know but with any luck they'll be no dragon slaying so I should return in one piece with a dozen more stories to share," He tried to eased the groups' minds, "Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone."

It was a mash of the group speaking over one another as they wished Varric well and off on his journey, assuming none would see him before he left the following morning.

Cullen remained to continue drinking and talking, hoping to exhaust enough of his energy enough that he might actually get some sleep tonight. The thought of sleep was wholly unappealing at present, taunting his mind with vivid nightmares, something he wasn't sure if drinking would make worse or better. Last time he had only the lingering sensation of his dreams after drinking but he didn't want to become dependant on something else to help him cope with his withdrawal. That had been his reason for avoiding it in the first place. Even if Kirkwall, he'd seen enough Templars drink away their pain and witnessed how such resulted in nothing but just another bad habit.

"You got quiet all of a sudden, Commander," Krem pulled him back into the conversation, "Not trying to double as Grim are you?"

Cullen raised his gaze from his drink, setting it aside, "Hm? Oh, no. I was just beginning to think I might be finished for the night."

"Right as I get back?" Bull's voice came from the stairs, turning the heads of everyone in the back space. He head came into view only when leaned over, not quite at the bottom of the stairs yet, but he made his way down soon enough to join them, "Come on, stay awhile longer Commander. You kept my boys company, I appreciate that."

"Not everyone here identifies as such, ser Bull," Dalish called out.

"Right," Bull stumbled through the group to _his_ chair, "My boys and Dalish."

"No honorary titles?" She teased him, "Should I get Skinner to give you a good talking to?"

"My boys and the ever glowing Lady Dalish," he grunted but it seemed to satisfy Dalish for the time being.

"Much better."

"So Chief, how's Dorian doing?" Krem adjusted how he was sitting, feet up on the chair, "He looked pretty worked up when he came in here earlier."

"Yeah, yeah. He's fine now," Bull looked around to see if there was a drink just lying about to no avail, "We talked. Rocky, you want to get everyone a fresh round of drinks?"

Rocky began chugging the one he had before getting up, "Sure thing."

"So, he's better then?" Krem concern was firm, almost as if he would hang onto it until he could confirm Dorian's wellbeing with his own eyes. Cullen felt similarly but did his best to pass it off as he was hardly paying attention, nursing his drink with increased vigour.

Bull turned towards Krem, "Better. Next time there'll be no drinking, if there even is a next time."

"Where'd he go? You were both upstairs, right?"

"Yeah, he decided to head to bed early tonight," Bull explained simply, "Pretty sure he hasn't been sleeping well lately."

"So, Commander," The conversation was directed to pull Cullen back into the thick of things, "What brings you by tonight? You think about my offer?"

He sputtered around his drink. He pulled it away so he could wipe his face dry, "I -uh… A little. To be honest, I'm not entirely _sure_ what your offer entails exactly."

Krem gave Bull a speculative expression, judgemental and harsh.

"It's not like that," He put up his hands, "I mean, it could be, but that's up to the Commander."

There was a chuckle and Cullen drank more to fight the flush he felt rise on his face. 

"Honestly, I meant it more as an invitation to work off some of that frustration out, or if you just need someone to talk to. Pretty much anything," Bull nodded, accepting a drink as Rocky returned to hand them out.

Krem continued looking at Bull speculatively, even as he accepted a drink.

"Cremisius, is there something on my face or are you judging me for my life choices?" Bull challenged his second in command.

Krem gave a grin, "Might be a bit of both, Chief, but at least you're not going off about red heads again."

"Well now your begging for me to get started."

The chargers groaned and Cullen was just glad to have the focus off him again for awhile. Rocky told a few more stories, ones that even the other chargers present hadn't heard before. Stitches got into a discussion with Dalish over how to properly close a very specific type of head wound to which Dalish responded, "That's disgusting!" but continued listening intently regardless. Krem hit a point where the only comments he made were about how beautiful the bard was, how well she could sing and whether or not she and Sera were a couple.

"I mean, they've got to be right? What reason would she have to write a song about Sera then? It's not a Red Jenny song, it's 'Sera was never'. It's about Sera and Sera isn't really personable in a direct way," He mumbled, "You've got to get to know each other to write a song like that."

"Alright Krem, I think you're done for the night," Bull suggested, picking the drink from his second-in-command's hands, "Time for bed."

There was no room for argument, Krem just gave a dull accepting nod as he got to his feet.

"Stitches, Dalish, can you make sure he and Rocky get there alright? They both look like they could fall on their asses at any moment," Bull gestured out and the slightly more sober two of the group gave a nod.

The bar was hitting an hour where eve the bartender had even switched out to go to bed but Cullen and Bull remained. Cullen knew he was drunk but the urge to go to bed didn't exist. If he continued to stay up, he'd hit a point eventually where sleep was the only option he'd have and worked beyond the point of exhaustion that he'd be without dreams. He'd done it before, though it had been a far more common habit when he served in Kirkwall. He had fewer reasons to follow through with that routine now. The demons weren't a fresh, weren't as pressing. He had removed himself from it all now that he could pretend it was other. It didn't plague his mind every time he closed his eyes.

"It still bad?" Bull's question pushed through the slowing swell of the tavern air.

Cullen looked about the tavern, setting his drink down with an arm heavier than he imagined, "It's-- Not as much right now, but I don't feel tired."

Bull looked him over, looking as if he were about to regret whatever decision he was about to make. It wasn't the sort of look that Cullen feel at unease though, more along the lines of surrender than the sort of regret one would agonize over for years to come.

"It's a bit late for me to be putting you to bed," Bull grunted, "Want to play cards instead?"

"Like Wicked Grace?" Cullen asked.

"I was thinking more like War or Spoons but if you really want to play Wicked Grace, I suppose we could do that too."

Bull had to explain the rules of both before Cullen could decide. They passed into the morning swapping stories and tossing down cards. 

"I like this one because it kills time, feels productive but you don't really have to think too much," Bull collected Cullen's stack with a grin, "Plus, there's no real strategy you can form, you just have to react quick and hope for the best."

"You've played this a lot then?" Cullen asked, drawing out another card for his far smaller deck.

Bull gave a nod, "A whole lot in Seheron, between all the fights. It was an easy way to unwind without stepping on anyones toes. You do anything like that?"

Cullen took Bulls card and brought it to his hand, "Not usually. Not well… Sometimes and Kirkwall but I tried not to."

"Why not?"

"I'd rather not," Unsure of which topic he referred, the cards or Kirkwall in general.

Bull gave a hum, "I won't push it then. Not tonight, but you ever need to let it all out… Well, find me directly. Don't wait." He glanced up, "I might need another nap before we do another sparring match though."

Cullen let out a laugh, "Right, yes. That's probably a good idea."

"Yeah, for me at least," Bull chuckled, taking the round before shuffling up the cards and going for another, "Beginning to think I might need the handicap with you."

"To be honest, that's how I felt earlier today," Cullen leaned forward with a grin. It earned a snort.

"If I'd kept with my weapon of choice, you would have felt threatened enough to kill me. That's no handicap, Commander. That's the sign of someone whose seen too much shit," Bull explained simply, "Take that as a compliment."

Cullen hesitated, looking at the cards before he realized the round was his so he could claim his prize, "It's hard to accept sometimes, but I suppose your right."

"It never ever gets easier, but sometimes you just find new ways of coping with it," Bull took the next round, and the one that followed it, "Like turning them into a source of strength, empowering you. That whole demon and the fade crap, for example. There was no way I was going to let that linger with me. It does, but I like to pretend it doesn't."

"…What was that like, if you don't mind me asking?" Cullen's hesitance showed in his voice. It wasn't a topic easily discussed and he knew that better than most.

Bull gave a grunt, "Fear demons turning into all sorts of shit. Taunting us." He shook his head, "Got in and fed off it, what matters now is that it's dead. Or… Mostly dead at least. No getting through."

The way Bull's body tensed, one hand in a fist as he scooped his spoils from the round. Cullen got the feeling that it wasn't even the top of the iceberg.

"Sorry," It was all he could think to offer, even with as out of place as it was.

Bull just gave a grunt, "Yeah, well, part of the job, right?"

"Yeah…"

"I need another drink," He glanced towards the bar, "What about you?"

Cullen looked at his own drink, feeling the alcohol slowly wearing off, "I probably shouldn't. The troops will be up soon. I should go train them."

"Right, when you do that," Bull smirked, "I'll go to bed."

"You didn't sleep well?"

Bull gave a shrug, "It's been a looong day."

They played their game out until completion, until the sun rose and Cullen excused himself to get breakfast. More oats, he spoke with some of the soldiers, did his morning checks and saw Cassandra for warm ups. They made plans to fortify supplies and training for the troops before heading off on their separate tasks. The Inquisitor left with a small company, not expected to return for a few days though with hopes of returning before the week reached its end.

There was relief in that, in knowing they were back on well enough terms with no hard feelings. The expression he noted on Cassandra's face however earned a chuckle.

"What?" She inquired, flustered. Cullen caught her.

"Nothing, nothing. I didn't say anything."

"Yes, but you were laughing. What's so funny?"

"I just had a thought."

"Not about me I hope," She was immediately on the defensive, folding her arms across her chest.

"No, not at all," He lied with a snide grin,"I was just thinking about this one time in the Chantry where one of the boys could never get the words right so he made them up every time. Sometimes he'd just mutter what he had for breakfast under his breath."

"Was this boy you?" Cassandra raised a brow.

" _No_ , no. ...We just always stood next to each other during assembly."

* * *

 

Dorian woke to the faintest of hymns coming from the garden. The words were difficult to make out through the stone walls, but he laid there until the flow of it seemed familiar enough for him to recite on his own. 

"…through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground," He mumbled, "Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be…."

He rose to his feet, the sun didn't come into his room at this hour, but looking out he could tell it was day. He ran a hand along the side of his face and let out a yawn. He had gone to bed early, earlier than he normally did which meant the day ahead would be a promising one. He looked at the duck he had moved from his bed to the top of his night stand, eyeing it curiously. It had appeared seemingly from nowhere as nothing else in his room had been disturbed. He had a feeling he knew the responsible party but for now, he would focus on the day ahead. Plenty of time to eat and drink and do research, but first…

He set up in front of his mirror with a razor, a cloth and his own array of oils and soaps. The process never took all that long but he lingered in the ritual, ridding his face of any hair he deemed out of place and maintaining the length of trim he wished to keep. The access was washed off and what remained was styled to perfection. Satisfied with the face that greeted him in return, he dressed.

The hymns appeared to be a part of a sermon Mother Giselle was holding, one Dorian sauntered passed as he carried on to get a bite to eat. It would have been nice to sit and stay but he'd only be labelled a martyr, present only to soil the grounds on which the Maker rest, only in nicer phrasing.

_We're not saying your unwelcome, but you're unwelcome._

He sighed and crossed the grounds to the kitchen, "Did I miss the morning rush or is there still something I can sneak out of here before anyone has a pickle?"

He was given a look by the two cooks present, only one responded by pouring the usual slop into a bowl and a bundle of grapes into another, handing both off with an exhausted expression, "Afraid you're going to have to find your own grounds if you want coffee. We're all out."

"This is plenty for now, thank you Marjorie."

Something he should have taken a little extra time to prepare in his room before he left. He sighed as he carried the two bowls to his station. He'd have to go back to make something before any headache set in, but for now the meal would tie him over. He set up in his little loft of an area and enjoyed the dull taste of overcooked oatmeal as best as anyone could. Something that might have been marginally remedied by blueberries he didn't have, so he dispersed the flavour by nibbling on grapes in-between until the oats were all gone. Bowl set aside, he checked his collection to see if Vivienne had indeed returned the books as she promised. Confirming that she had, he set to work, intending to make up for the last few falters in his productivity. He broke away to fetch his own personal supplies to brew some coffee while he worked.

Thing went smoothly and Dorian worked relentlessly for hours upon hours upon hours. The grapes were a good snack whenever he had the slightest inkling of hunger and it kept him there in the tower from dawn till dusk and beyond that. He was on a roll and didn't want to stop but when it became apparent he was the only one left in the building, he figured it best to put his things away and call it a night.

The wooden duck was still sitting on his night table when he returned after washing his dishes and taking a bath. His hair was damp, but even if it dried and stuck up every which way, he had the means of fixing it so it was hardly a concern.

He picked the duck up after setting his bathing supplies down and looked it over. No wheels but it still served to remind him of Tevinter, of home and most of all, the time he broke a toy very similar to this one.

He set it back and settled into bed after hanging up his robe. Falling asleep wasn't instant but at least think over what he had accomplished and what there would be to cover tomorrow. Simple problem solving filled with the occasional day dream.

When he did finally drift off, he was greeted by the fade. The same temptations, a different day.

Demons were incredibly transparent at times, even if they tried to dig their way in, Dorian had enough practice by now that it was a walk in the park. He was good at hiding his feelings, sometimes, but he wasn't afraid of letting them show either. Over the years he'd come to realize that his emotions could be a source of strength, they made his spells last longer and pack more punch. It could certainly be draining at times but when the feelings stayed strong enough then so did his spells.

He woke feeling rested and far more aware of things than he had the morning prior. He started the day right by brewing his coffee, filling his basin and got going about his usual routine.

* * *

 

Cullen wore himself out passed the point of exhaustion, but it was necessary. There was no way he would have fallen asleep otherwise, not with the state he had been in recently. The slumber was solid, restful and he woke feeling such, if still a bit sore regardless. Overdoing it did come with his own price but he would take physical pains over mental any day. They tended to be more grounding.

He sorted through his paperwork while nibbling on a biscuit he had brought back from breakfast. None of his work was incredibly rush order or captivating but he worked none the less. A few letters between Skyhold and the Hissing Wastes, a few more on bridge construction in Emprise du Lion. Only a few hitched within each but easily cleared up and carried on.

He stretched, feeling an ache in the back of his neck from being hunched over for such lengths of time. A break seemed in order, though he was unsure if it was suitable of him to see Dorian again with what he now assumably knew. He could at least extend an invitation, though tea seemed preferable first. He made his way down towards the kitchens to see if he could prepare a pot before meeting with the mage.

The kitchen was only ever filled right around mealtimes. The odd person snuck in here and there, but overall it was scarcely full. He took his time brewing a pot, pondering whether he should bring it out with him to offer to those in the garden. Or maybe he should just keep it on a separate table during their match. If he ended up offering it out, he might have to brew a larger amount, and get a bigger pot.

He fretted silently about more insignificant things while he waited on the water to boil.

He carried to cups out with him to the courtyard, board set up as he left the tea to steep. He wandered towards the tower and up, only to see Dorian buried in his work. Books piled everywhere, a quill tucked behind his ear as he used another to scribble in a worn looking journal. There was a book left open over the arm of his chair, with another couple open on his lap. He hovered around the opening in the nook, wondering if perhaps the timing was bad. It was best not to interrupt him when he seemed so deep in thought, so he waited, watched, pondered whether he should go speak to Leliana while he was here. She was in line to becoming Divine from the sound of things.

He slipped past, earning a glance from Dorian who raised his head at the sound of his footsteps. He just gave a small smile and raised a finger. _One moment._ He'd be back, Dorian could continue working for the time being. He rounded the tower and climbed more stairs. Lelinan was pleasant company when she didn't seem to be actively plotting something.

"I hear things are between you and Cassandra for the place of Divine," He inquired upon his approach.

"Yes, though I can't imagine it will be easy for either of us," Leliana sighed, "It is not an duty accepted on whim and to think of either of us as Divine is… still very strange. I don't think either of us believed it possible to become candidates for Divine."

"It's hard to imagine," Cullen took a seat, "Though I don't doubt the capabilities of either of you to succeed in such a position. Any idea who the Inquisitor is thinking of tossing his weight behind for this?"

Leliana chuckled, "My bet, as selfish as it may seem is on myself, though that's hardly my intention. It's clear to see that Inquisitor Trevelyan favours our Lady Seeker. It seems foolish that he would send her off to be Divine, unless he wishes to be engaged with Most Holy."

"The Herald and the Most Holy," Cullen joked, "That would be a tale to last the ages."

"Don't speak too loudly, Commander. People might start to favour the idea," He got Leliana too smile, a seemingly rare sight in recent.

"I'm sure it would give Varric plenty to write about."

"That, I agree with," She walked put an arm out to receive a messenger bird that had just came in. The parchment tied to its leg was retrieved and read quickly, "Are you here with business or are you passing time, Commander?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask."

"I'm merely aiding in your efforts," She smiled, that plotting sort of smile. She knew, she almost always knew. Cullen let air escape his lungs before getting to his feet, "I'll leave you to your duties then."

"You should go see Josie sometime. I hear she has something that can only be delivered to you in person. Important documents."

He cleared his throat and bowed his head, "Thank you, Spy Master." And he took his leave, back downstairs to where Dorian was seemingly wrapping up.

"A game?" He inquired, looking about as if he was searching - or checking? - where he had left everything. He pat himself down and smiled up at Cullen, eager for a break perhaps.

The Commander canted his head in the direction of the garden, "If you've the time."

"You know I'm never one to turn down a game, Commander. Lead the way."

Down the stairs, out the doors, through more doors and into the garden. Dorian hopped over the railing instead of going around it as Cullen had, earning a chuckle from the Commander as he met up with him again before they entered the gazebo.

"You've got a stray hair, Commander," There it was, that little twinkle of charm in his eye when Cullen raised his gaze to meet it.

He felt they were off to a good start today, a grin remaining solidly as he offered up tea, "I need to restock certain supplies."

"Well, you're always free to borrow some of mine, should you find yourself in dire need," He nodded to the tea and took a seat, "Though the troops may consider it a source of inspiration to see their Commander presenting himself with less than perfect hair."

Cullen could feel his cheeks warm as he poured out tea into his own cup, "My hair is far from perfect."

Dorian leaned back to study him, "Well… I didn't want to say anything, but there is certainly better ways you could treat and wear it."

"It's not so easily tamed," Cullen assured him by leaning forward.

He was met with a grin, and the first chess piece was moved, "Nor are you which makes it a suitable reflection."

The air was more than a little cool today and yet, Cullen felt himself to be already quite warm under the collar. He hadn't even had a sip of his tea.

He averted his gaze to the board and cleared his throat, "Its a bit hard to manage, specifically when I have to wear a helmet."  
"It's always been easiest to keep short."

"Mm, yes. I imagine it gets quite curly when you don't style it," Dorian's gaze was fixed, though his voice sounded distant in a way, "Mine too, curls. Though I get the feeling not nearly to the same extent as yours."

Cullen found himself toying with the collar of his armour as he figured out his move and moved a piece, "Wavy."  
He lifted his head to look at Dorian, "I wouldn't say your hair curls so much as it creates waves."

The comment earned a grin, "That's a nice way of putting it." He moved a piece forward with confidence, "Like a black ocean... Tell me Commander, did you hear the rumors in Skyhold recently?"

"Which?" He moved another piece, a familiar feeling in it.

"The ones concerning The Iron Bull and myself," Dorian clarified, "You… Didn't hear anything did you? Just _witnessed_."

Dorian seemed to cringe and Cullen could sense his discomfort, "Did you two… Work things out?"

"Mostly," Dorian's eyes darted away and he picked up his tea, "There's still a lot of rough areas to be patched over."

"Well, so long as you to are both," Cullen hesitated to find the word, "Compliant with the arrangement, I see no reason why you shouldn't have my support. Congratulations."

Dorian gave a nod as he sipped over his tea. No words, just a mumble that sounded vaguely of affirmation.

Cullen very well had no reason to ask now. He wasn't even sure how to phrase it, he just knew that demon had invaded his head and perhaps Dorian's and he was beginning to feel ill about it. He took a tense posture and waited for Dorian to make his move.

The conversation seemed to still in favour of drink. The clack of chess pieces replacing conversation.

Bull was a fine man, a good match - he hoped. Dorian deserved someone who could be there for him. Not that Cullen even knew what that meant, it wasn't as if he'd ever been with anyone seriously.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

He just wanted what was right for his friend.

He just wanted…

"Commander," Dorian spoke suddenly, eyes darting from the board to the man and back, "I believe it's your turn."

"Ah yes, you're right," He moved a piece and noticed the distinct lack of black on the board. It earned a small smile.

"You should join us for a drink again sometime," The mage offered, "The Inquisitor has been collecting bottles that he's been finding all over Thedas. The most recent addition, Butterbile." There was a grin on his face, "Do you know the history of butterbile?"

Cullen shook his head, "No, I'm afraid not."

"Its said to be so potent that you will both love and utterly despise it. Produced in very limited quantities, it's one of few beverages that was under strict orders to never be produced again," excitement spread over Dorian's features, "And he found a bottle. Isn't that exciting? So I was thinking of sneaking it out of his stash and giving it a try. What do you say?"

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not sure the Inquisitor would appreciate that."

"Oh come on," Dorian encouraged, "We'll make sure there's enough left that he can enjoy it when he gets back. I'm sure Blackwall wouldn't mind a taste or two either."  
"Its one of the few times where we might get a break before we meet a very possible horrific demise," He offered to sweeten the deal, "You're good company, Commander and I would be blessed if you'd join me again for drinks."

"Things… have been slower since The Inquisitor last head out," Cullen admitted.

"Good," Dorian grinned, "I still have plenty of research but should you be unable to continue with your duties, you are more than free to relieve me from mine and head over to the Tavern."

"I should actually check with Bull, I believe he was supposed to be training my troops," He warmed to the idea, "If not today, then perhaps tomorrow. I should also be present for that."

"Something to discuss tonight then."

"I suppose your right."

The total of turns left the game in no one's favor, one of the few times their match ended in a draw.

"So that keeps us even," Dorian mused, "How interesting."

"I suppose you'll have to work harder if you want to beat me next time," Cullen grinned, selecting the pieces he held in majority to put away. Dorian did the same, hands on black, Cullen's hands on white. He didn't know why but he preferred seeing Dorian's fingers grace the white pieces more. It suited him better.

"Sassing me again, Commander," Dorian teased in good fun, "Even after you offered me tea. Whatever shall I do with you?"

"That….." Cullen paused as he thought about it, "Is a very good question. I'm certain you'll have time to figure out something."

"Between reading up on Catharsis and the Blight? Of course!" Dorian smirked though Cullen got the feeling it was hiding something. Silent secrets that added weight to every word. "I'll see if I can whip up something by the end of the day. You will be joining us in the Tavern after all, yes?"

"You did extend the invitation," Cullen gave a nod.

"Wonderful. Come find me around sundown then. I will be awaiting your arrival most eagerly."

 

 


	5. Bitter Blueberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm pretty sure i had something really nice and insightful to put here but then i got distracted by gay cinema so, goodbye insightful thoughts. they might come back though.  
> thank you again for all the kudos and comments everyone. its incredibly reassuring!
> 
> content warning for masturbation

Settling back into his work initially had been difficult. The prospect of drinking with the Commander was once again very present and thought provoking, perhaps even more so than the Elvhen text he had left to decipher. Solas had only been nice enough to give him a dictionary and while Dorian was by no means fluent _yet,_ he was making incredible use of it.

Even as he translated the vague sentence structure, he found his mind wandering back to their game. The tea was a nice touch. Though he had basically cemented the fact that he and the Commander were likely never to become a couple.

It was probably best that way.

A depressing thought to encourage his work. It was best that way.

The tower dimmed just enough for him to be aware that sun was setting, but he promised himself to keep working until the Commander came around. It was a practice of patience.

Every other set of footsteps coming up the stairs got him to rear his head. The fifth disappointment. He sighed.

"I haven't kept you waiting too long, I hope," Dorian's head lifted again, greeted by Cullen who was massaging his gloved hands.

Dorian set his work down and rose to his feet and passed a grin the Commander's way, "Does work count as waiting? I didn't hear you come up."

"I… behind--" He gestured to the mage he had followed up the tower.

"Helisma?" Dorian filled in for him.

"Is that her name?" He let out a breath, his shoulder's sinking with it, "I can barely keep track of all our troops…"

"No worries, Commander," Dorian pat him lightly on the large fluffy trim as he guided the man back downstairs, "If it were absolutely necessary for you to know the name of face of everyone in Skyhold, Josephine and Leliana would have far less to do and you'd be run even more ragged."

* * *

 

They snuck into the Inquisitor's quarters while he was absent, snuck in an _stole_ his butterbile. Cullen had never done anything so… So…

He stood there wringing his hands as Dorian hunted through his stash, retrieving the bottle and leading him back out as he held it up in victory, "It's positively ancient! Oh the stories we'll get out of you."

_Depraved._

Or at least, he liked to think so until the path it lead him became most unpleasant. He wasn't going to incite the same argument as before. They'd been over it and it would be fine. Provided the drink was as potent as Dorian built it up to be, they would all get drunk after a few sips, call it quits and return it to the Inquisitor's room as if it had never happened.

A nervousness turned his stomach as he followed Dorian out, "To the tavern now then?"

"Yes, yes. From here on out, it's all relaxed bar tending. Or tavern lounging, however you want to phrase it."

They crossed the grounds and took a seat with Bull and his Chargers. Dorian held up the prize, "Compliments of our dear Inquisitor. Whose got a glass? We'll fill up a few rounds and give it a go."

Krem simply got up to fetch a few fresh glasses for the group and for a moment Cullen almost forgot what he had intended to discuss prior to his arrival.

His eyes darted from Krem to Dorian and landed on Bull, "Did you want to give training a try tomorrow? I set up arrangements today. They're all looking forward to hearing any techniques and advices you'd be willing to provide."

"Yeah," Bull grinned, "That'd be good." Then he was pulling the bottle from Dorian's grip and looking it over, "Butterbile. This the stuff that got banished?"

"So the legend goes," Dorian hummed, picking a glass from Krem as he returned. Those that remained were passed around. A small group, Cullen felt his nerves rise once more.

The bottle was opened by Bull of all people and poured out perhaps more generously than Cullen would have suggested. Half of the bottle was already emptied amongst their glasses.

"Perhaps we should leave the rest for when the Inquisitor returns," Cullen suggested off handedly as he sniffed the glass, unable to tell if it smelt absolutely amazing or dreadful.

He wasn't the only one, they all had their own ways of testing the water, though all four started with scent. Bull nearly stuck his nose in and Krem made a face, "This'll make the oddest thing I've ever drank. Outside of that--what was it called, Chief? The dragon slaying one."

"Marass-lok," Bull replied.

"Yeah, Marass-lok. That shit was vile."

Dorian was the first to take a sip, tentative and processing, "There doesn't seem to be much of an aftertaste….."

He took a bigger one, everyone in the group watched.

He made a face and swallowed, "Wrong--There it is. Much-- Wow, much stronger on the second one. And it does indeed taste like bile."

"Bile, huh?" Bull was the second to step up to the plate, downing a good amount with a seemingly unchanged expression. He hovered in it, "I'm getting the butter…." His nose curled, "And there it is. Like stale carrots and too much acid."

Cullen hesitantly took a sip. It wasn't distinctly much of anything at first. A second sip seemed to change that rather quickly, filling his mouth with a bitter flavour that he struggled not to wince at before swallowing.

Krem did the same.

"Yet there's something utterly alluring about it," Dorian hummed as he went back for a little more, making another face, "It's atrocious, but invitingly so."

Bull chuckled, downing the last of his glass. He gave a grunt, "Yeah-I'll pass. Reminds me of the one time… We did too many somersaults during practice, and then bam! Projectile vomit."

He sneered at the memory and set the glass aside, "Just ale is fine with me. You wanted me to train them tomorrow, right Commander?"

Cullen gave a nod as he sniffed at the drink again, "I wouldn't advise drinking too much."

Krem set his glass down, mostly full, "Yeah, nah. Don't think I can do that one either. As nice as it'd be to outdrink the Chief for once, I know my limits."

Dorian reached across to claim the glass, "More for me then I suppose. How are you handling it, Commander?"

He took another sip, smaller than his first. The bitterness only hit when it passed the back of his tongue, but the warm sensation it created on the way down was nice. He took another sip.

"I'll take that as _well enough_ ," there was a pleased smile on the man's face as he took to his own glass. Cullen's eyes follow the bob of his Adam's apple as Dorian finished his glass with ease. Only the slightest cringe as he set it down, "Mm, there it goes."

Bull returned to the usual mix of house ale, as did Krem. Cullen would have been best off following their lead but he wasn't quite feeling it. There was something so pleasantly smooth about it, yet there was a bite of acid and an aftertaste that was hard to shake. Not only was it all that, Butterbile was strong. He hadn't even had much yet and it seemed as if time was distorting around him.

"Did you invite the Commander out tonight, Dorian?" Bull's question.

Krem was eyeing the bard again. Something Cullen couldn't hide his smirk over. It was rather endearing, all this puppy love about. So long as none of it was directed his way, it was fine. After Halamshiral, he was positively fine with taking his time on that front. He felt exhausted even by the mere memory of the occasion.

He didn't catch Dorian's response, just that the mage had taken to Krem's abandoned glass of butterbile.

Cullen was still working through his first glass and was already feeling it. He glanced to Bull with concern, "Do you feel drunk?"

Bull chuckled, "A little bit. Why?"

He glanced to Dorian who practically downed the second glass, then back to Bull. The former spy seemed to catch his drift, "Dorian, you sure you want to drink that much?"

"It's already drunk," He mumbled, looking at the empty glass, "No going back now, is there?"

There was a mutual sense of concern amongst the three present though Krem knew it wasn't his place to lecture the other man. He rose to his feet, "I'm going to hang out with Sera. Be back later, Chief."

"Yeah, sure. Don't go firing off any arrows," Bull warned casually without diverting his gaze at all. No one spoke until Krem had disappeared upstairs. Bull scooted his chair towards Dorian and lowered his voice, "I thought we discussed this."

"Discussed what? We discussed us. No drinking next time. I'm drinking."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Cullen felt trapped between the two though he was really more like a spare wheel left against the wall, his eyes went between the two as the tension rose.

"I think the concern is over why you're drinking so much, Dorian," He butted in. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable for having done so as both eyes were now suddenly fixed on him. He took a quick sip of the drink, hoping it would give him the strength to say more.

"You're drinking too."

"Its a tavern, Dorian, that's what people do," Bull felt the need to point out, "Why would you invite him here if you were just going to-Oo _ooh_ …."

Bull realized something Cullen hadn't, something that made the Qunari scoff and shake his head at Dorian. His eyes darted between the two again as he took another sip.

"Don't say it," Dorian warned, eyes narrowing.

Bull just took his seat back, "I won't. That's on you, 'Vint."

Dorian shut his eyes, jaw clenched. They were all at various stages of drunk, Cullen knew that much. How Dorian managed as much as he did was truly astounding to Cullen though. He wasn't a large man by any means and if Bull felt it from the one glass then he could only imagine Dorian was really swimming in it.

"I feel… As if I'm missing something," He mused quietly to himself, the usual barrier of self-consciousness slipping away. He was best off not having anymore but he finished the glass regardless, "I can see why this stuff is banned."

"I'd quite like another glass," Dorian mumbled, getting up on his feet instead of reaching over to where the bottle sat.

"Dorian," Bull's tone was warning though he didn't move to stop him, leaving the man to wander off towards the ales.

Shifted forward after Dorian took his leave, towards Cullen with surprising speed that it caught the Commander a touch off guard, "If he has more than what he returns with, I want you to take him outside."

"Me? Why?"

"Because," Bull frowned, "We have an arrangement and I'd rather he was sober. He would too."

Cullen's head swam with the insinuations, "You're… You want me to… Outside, okay."

He got that much, that much seemed important and entirely manageable.

Dorian returned with a pint, "Right, good. Now you two are getting all friendly and the world steadily gets smaller once again. Next, my mother will appear and drag me out by my ear."  
"Did you know, once when I had returned from the Circle in Carastes, she pulled me aside and said _Dorian, I'm going to teach you something more important than any tutor ever could_ ," He explained, slurring the odd word, "There was a dead bird at her feet, and she brought it back to life, made it fly. It was was the first I'd ever seen magic do that. It flew some distance before… I don't know the magic wore off or something and the bird fell. Plummeting right back down to the earth. And then she said, _Everything dies, Dorian._ _Its what you do with the time that you're living that truly counts._ "

The story left Cullen tense.

"That why you joined the Inquisition?" Bull asked.

"No, yes. Maybe," Dorian shrugged and took a long drink, "I joined because there would be no one else to warn you in Haven. Or inform you of the Venatori."

"You're timing was most spectacular," Cullen admitted, earning a pair of grey eyes and the faintest movement of full lips.

"It was a great save," Bull's voice, not Dorian's. His gaze lifted to the Iron Bull who seemed far more guarded now than he had a moment ago, "Shame we didn't have you on our side a little sooner."

"Yes, well… Who knows what would be different if that were the case," Dorian mumbled before downing the rest, "Theorize all you'd like, this is where we stand now."

"Or sit," Cullen felt the need to draw attention to that fact as they were all very much seated.

"This is where we sit now," Dorian corrected himself with a bit of a hum and nod. Seemingly content with his seat until he stood up suddenly, "Refills anyone?"

Bull gave Cullen a look. A quick raise of his brows and he remembered their agreement. Cullen bolted to his feet and nearly toppled his chair in the process, "Right! --Uh… How about some fresh air for a little bit instead?" He offered to Dorian instead. He knew he probably wasn't as enticing as a drink to the other man, but it was worth a shot regardless.

Dorian had a look of utter surprise written on his face, inclination slipping onto his features as the surprise wore off, "..Sure. That might be nice."

His gaze fell to Bull and any inclination he had slipped away. Dorian swore, cursed at him in tongues - Tevene - before turning to storm out of the tavern, much to Cullen's mortification.

"…What did he just say?"

Bull just shifted in his seat with a groan, "Something like, _you conniving shit_. I think. I never really became fluent when all their curse words sound pretty much the same."

"Should I…?" He gestured to the door that had slammed shut and he was met with a nod.

Cullen gave a nod, and followed the mage out, calling out once the door closed behind him, "Dorian?"

" _What?_ ….Fasta vass, you don't even know."

Cullen followed the voice to his left, around the tavern, towards the training dummies. It felt odd being here at night. He was so used to seeing Cassandra out practicing that Dorian's slumped shoulders came as a surprise. His back was to Cullen.

He hesitated. He was never all that good with emotions. It was easier to just get it out with a sword and a shield. Fists even would be preferred but Dorian wasn't one for that. He was a mage, and an emotional mage at that. Such was a fear Cullen hadn't considered until he was standing outside with him alone.

"You're too good for me, Commander. You always were and likely always will be. A prime picture of everything Fereldan hopes to embody."

It was hard to find his voice with what Dorian was going on about, leaving some kind of internal conflict. He had to remind himself, Dorian had chances before, drunk or not he was safe and so was Dorian.

This was safe.

He took a step forward to prove that to himself, "I'm not sure I follow. Bull was concerned, he wanted me to make sure you didn't overdo it."

"Of course he did," Dorian scoffed, "Of course he fucking did. Which is why he asked you, I assume. Get Commander Cullen to come console me instead. You never even stopped to consider why he asked you, I bet, instead of following me out himself."

The mage kicked at the ground and Cullen stalled, still some distance away. "I… raised the concern."

But now Dorian got him thinking, why would send him out if he and Dorian were together. Assumably together. That didn't make any sense.

In his moment of consideration, Dorian had turned around and made gain towards Cullen instead, "Maker, you're so oblivious that it physically pains me. I could kiss you right now and I bet you still wouldn't have a clue."

"What?" Cullen felt cut off from the line of thought he had been following.

Hands dug into the fur that lined his collar and tugged him forward, bringing his lips to meet Dorian's. The action was rough, but the kiss wasn't. It was almost chaste in the way they brushed. Could it even be considered a kiss?

His eyes raised to meet Dorian's who hovered close but made no move to pursue him beyond the faintest. His grip slackened.

Dorian always smelt a bit like electricity and dying embers underneath the perfumes he used to dress himself. Something Cullen never indulged in sobriety, but now it made his pulse raise with a need he couldn't quite shake.

"Andraste's curvaceous ass," Dorian cursed, "Push me away already, tell me _no_."

Soft lips, smooth lines, gentle eyes, hands roughly the size of his own.

And a mage.

He just needed to know by angling Dorian's chin up, by looking at his face, by kissing the man in a manner he'd not been able to explore before if ever. A rare chance taken, he embraced the feeling of lips against his own, warmer than he imaged. Warmer than any seduction attempt pressed on him from a stranger. The sensation of Dorian's moustache brushing his upper lip earned a smile. Full and flushed, and he was a skilled kisser to top it off. He hadn't realized he paused to admire such simple aspects of the other man until Dorian took control of the situation.

His hands found Dorian's waist, inhaling deep when their lips broke long enough for oxygen to return to his lungs. His back found the wall of Herald's Rest and Dorian's hands found their way into his hair. It was all so languid up until Dorian's desperation began to seep out. This wasn't explorative anymore, though Cullen was still intrigued to feel more, even if Dorian's movements were harsher. Teeth on his bottom lip, Cullen's eyes slipped closed, embracing the sensation of it.A tongue followed, aftertaste of alcohol lingering on it, exploring as much as he was allowed to explore. Leather gloves caught on belts as his hands traversed the mage's sides.

Maybe it wasn't soft lines he liked but smooth lines because Dorian had very smooth lines and he liked them very much. Waist, thigh, waist, torso. His gloves trailed along the opening at his pectoral, following the fabric and string up. Tactically it would be unacceptable for a warrior to wear anything of the sort but Dorian was a mage. He gripped Dorian's bare shoulder, pressing his thumb in as he tried to guide him back so they could rotate. His back was exposed to the elements, to any audience, a thought that didn't occur to him until his mouth was pressed to Dorian's chin, to his neck.

He pulled back suddenly, alarmed at the notion that they were very public and very recognizable members of the Inquisition making out against the tavern wall. His eyes searched the area, scouts, soldiers, lone wanderers. It was dark but that didn't mean they couldn't be seen.

"… _Shit_ ," He cursed covering his mouth as he began walking away. It was foolish, this was foolish. He couldn't be seen having an affair with a mage, a taken mage. It wasn't the worst that could have happened but it certainly wasn't good. He chastised himself for it on the way back to his office, half jog and half hard.

_What would everyone think?_

_What would Bull think?_

He realized upon entering his office that he has simply left Dorian there to ponder the very same questions that plagued him, maybe more and in the darkness of his office he stood wondering if he should just start back, pursue whatever it was and deal with the rest in the morning.

He latched the door shut instead, pressing himself against it and knocking his head back, "Shit!"

He covered his face but smelt Dorian on his hands. On his gloves.

His voice broke, "Fu- _ck_ …"

He crossed the room and latched the other doors only to strike a match after and ensure he was completely alone.

The fire dimmed, burnt out, leaving him alone in the dark to spill himself open where no one could see. He pulled the glove on his left hand off with teeth and fought between belt and breeches. Fabric between it all making it difficult, but the gloved hand over his mouth served as encouragement. The darkness helped, his eyes being shut helped. It was an indulgence he denied to himself as quiet as he could. No one would know, no one would need to know. 

He stroked himself off fast, eager to have it out of his system but his mind and body did not cooperate as one. He slowed, thought about what it might be like with Dorian instead, exploring his features without clothes.

He groaned into his hand, pleading with himself. Just be done. Just finish and move on.

* * *

 

It took him awhile to find the energy to drag himself back inside. _Shit._ Dorian mused over the way it came out of the Commander's mouth. Mused about the Commander's mouth, which was every bit as wonderful as he thought it would be. _Shit_ like this will never happen again and _shit_ like he enjoyed it. He held his tongue between his teeth as he made his way back towards the Iron Bull. He took a seat on the man's lap, folding his hands under his chin and leaning forward.

Bull held his drink out of Dorian's reach, "No."

"But I didn't even--"

"No," Bull repeated firmly, "You drank and you're drunk. Work on..." He paused to find the right word, "..working that off first."

"You _could_ help me, you realize."

" _No_ ," Bull growled in finality, "Where's the Commander?"

"… _Shit_ ," Dorian pronounced every possible facet of the word, realization dawning in his eyes as he leaned back and looked out towards the door, "Fuck--Fucking _shit!_ "

Bull set his drink down so he could lift and carry Dorian up, "Not here. Eyes and ears, Dorian."

"I can't believe _you_ let me do that!" Dorian hissed at him, "I can't believe you--You let h-"

A hand clamped over his mouth as Bull's voice boomed in his ears, "Please, tell everyone how we fucked last night. I'm sure they're all dying to know. You cheeky slut you. Couldn't get enough!"

Dorian's face was red with anger and embarrassment. They hadn't even done anything. The longer Dorian was left to think on that and he grumbled against Bull's hand the more he realized that Bull wanted them to know.

He was set down by the stairs to the top room though he could hardly stand, Bull lead him inside and latched the door so they could sit an talk.

"Sober up and we'll actually do it," He stated flat out, "But for now, talk quiet."

"Why did you send him out there with me?"

"Did you really thing getting drunk would solve anything?"

Dorian groaned, "Answering a question - with another question is incredibly… Incredible. --Annoying, I mean. Fuck."

He let out a sigh as he palmed his forehead.

"Answer mine and I'll answer yours," Bull began massaging his shoulders.

"No," Dorian grumbled, "But I thought it would make it easier. In a way it did."

"Did you two….?"

"We kissed," Dorian sighed, "Made out a little bit. Then he stopped all of a sudden and darted off."

"Hmph," Bull grunted, "That's the reason."

"What? Him running off?"

"No, you two were making eyes at each other and it was getting painful to watch," Bull pushed into a particularly sensitive spot and got loud groan out of Dorian.

"Maker's balls-! Is that really the reason?"

"I could be possessive Dorian, but I'm not. Besides," He grinned, "The Commander saw me naked before you did."

"What?" He jumped around, regretting it if only for the disorientation the movement brought him.

It earned a chuckle from Bull, "Yeah. Strolled in looking for the Inquisitor and got an eyeful of lean mean killing machine."

"You're hardly lean," Dorian pat Bull's belly to further his point.

" _Keen_ mean killing machine then."

"Close enough," Dorian sighed, relaxing back into Bull, "…Fuck."

"Didn't go so well, huh?" Bull rubbed Dorian's arm.

" _Fuck_ ," Dorian enunciated, "You're supposed to be like… What are we even? Partners? Coupled? This isn't an arranged marriage and you're not someone I'm paying to sleep with."

"What would you call me?" Bull lifted Dorian's face, "Besides my name."

"…Amatus," He felt his chest clench as the words left his mouth.

Bull gave a nod, "Amatus. And I would call you Kadan."

"…Kadan," Dorian blinked up at him, "That means…"

"Heart," Bull pulled Dorian on his lap, "My heart."

"I'm not sober yet," Dorian mumbled, feeling himself pulled down by the whirlpool that Bull embodied.

His lips were different from the Commander's and his nose didn't get in the way as much. The kisses were light, reassuring.

"Then we take our time until you are," Bull promised.

* * *

 

It was not good.

He paced about the office, hoping for some kind of distraction. Any kind of distraction. Getting off hadn't been enough, bathing hadn't been enough, even visiting Andraste hadn't been enough.

He still felt dirty, cruel and unprepared. He gripped the lengthy candelabra that stood beside the bookshelf and pulled it down with a yell.

It wasn't enough, it didn't take the feeling out of him.

His hands ran up through his hair as he sucked air in through his teeth, eyes clenched shut. He couldn't get rid of it, a feeling on the back of his eyelids. It had felt so good and yet he could never swear himself to it. He could never swear himself to Dorian, with or without Iron Bull in the picture.

He crumpled to the stone floor, the need for oxygen tearing in his lungs as he held his breath. He used it to suppress the urge to make any more sound. Like everything else, this wasn't to get in the way of is work. It wasn't allowed. He wasn't allowed.

There was nothing that truly forbade him from from getting involved in such relations, just himself. He let the breath out and got to his feet. His work, he swore himself to it from the beginning. Nothing would take priority over what he could do for the Inquisition. He lit a candle and focused on what he could do instead.

The tarp was rather irritating with all the wind passing over and under it but as the clouds had been indicating for some time, a storm rolled in. Rain started pouring around the hour. Lightening and thunder joined the applause as dawn approached.

 

…

 

The grounds were wet and the rain was still hammering. He took a walk along the wall to get a feel for what condition it left Skyhold in. Cassandra was training in her usual spot, foot sliding across the ground as she made strikes to fit to form despite the challenge the elements provided. Difficult but good as any warrior should be seasoned to fight regardless of what nature threw at them. He hesitated at the door where he knew the Iron Bull stayed, taking a moment to gather himself before knocking.

There was a clamber of noise from inside, something knocked over, scowling, swearing.

He closed his eyes and shut out the voice.

The door was pulled open beneath his fist, revealing the Iron Bull sans eyepatch, "Hey Commander. Enjoying the weather?"

"Its reminiscent of the Storm Coast," Cullen straightened his back, "I was wondering if you were up to training the troops, as we discussed?"

"Yeah, sure thing. Just let me get a little more dressed," Cullen noted that Bull only had pants on because he was holding them up, a gaze he diverted while the man readied himself.

The rain was peaceful, calming and dangerous all at once. The smell was comforting too, filled him up with the feeling of lyrium even without having touched a philter in ages.

"Huh," The comment from Bull drew Cullen's gaze, though he wished it hadn't, "Guess he forgot these."

Undergarments, Cullen's mind registered and he felt the sudden urge to clear his throat, "I'll… meet you down--outfront."

He turned to leave but Bull's voice cut him off,"That's alright. I'm all ready." He tossed the underwear onto the bed and followed Cullen out. Heat rose up his neck, perturbed though he had no reason to be.

"You fight on a slick surface often, Commander?"

"Kirkwall saw enough rain."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Lightening flashed across the sky.

"…Only occasionally."

Bull started down the stairs beside him, "Then there's plenty for you to learn too."

Thunder crackled, rolling to catch up.

Cullen's outfit served only to catch more rain and weigh him down. It would hinder him in combat, he knew this and yet, he called for the troops to gather and be taught.

Bull picked on attire choice first, pointing out the differences and tactical advantages and disadvantages between the two, both his own and Cullen's servedas perfect examples. Bull's pointers were solid, he covered things like stance and posture and kept the troops involved actively enough that none lost their attention. Cullen was genuinely impressed, rows of soldiers were applying the knowledge Bull had given them and went around to check and test their footing personally if necessary.

"You could be a commander," Cullen informed him upon his return to the front.

"Yeah," Bull shrugged, "Not really my thing though. I've got my Chargers and they're all I need."  
"...So, you sleep at all last night?"

"I don't believe that's a conversation to be having right now," Cullen kept his voice as even as he could manage. 

"We could wrestle it out," Bull nudged him with his elbow, "Even if it's not right now. If you need to, later, whenever, my door's open."

"Yes, I learned that the hard way," Cullen gazed over the troops.

"Come on," Bull gestured to him, "As their commander, I expect you to practice this shit too. Even Cassandra is getting in on it."

He gave as sigh and took the stance Bull had shown.

"Good! Arms up and everything. So if I go like this…" He pushed Cullen and there was a lot more strength behind that arm than he had been prepared for. He slid back, trying to dig his heels in without throwing off his balance. "Not bad, not bad. Cassandra!" He waved an arm to the Seeker, drawing her over, "I need you take that big fuzzy mess the Commander's got on and whatever else might considerably get in the way."

Cassandra raised her brow, "Does that include the armour too?"

Iron Bull looked to Cullen, "Probably for the best if you take of that armour for now, big guy."

Cullen sighed, knowing there was no way he could get out of whatever Bull had planned now. Eyes were wandering to see what was going on, wondering. Cullen stripped his coat and armour, sword as well, handing it all off to Cassandra with reluctance. She stood off to the side, giving a nod of affirmation to Cullen. Indication enough that should he end up dirty, she'd ensure his things would end up returned and cared for properly.

"Now," Bull announced to the group, "Should you find yourself one on one without sword or shield against a big guy like me, the Commander here will show you how to take me down."

"You're giving me too much credit," Cullen scoffed, feeling incredibly put on the spot.

Bull just grinned, "Show me what you've got, Commander."

He was out of his element, there was less for him to grab for him to throw the Qunari down with than he wore himself. He tried to compose a strategy, Bull appear fairly top heavy so knocking him off balance would be a start to getting him down. He made an attempt to grab the Qunari's harness to yank him off balance. The grasp was blocked and Cullen found himself pinned to the muddy ground.

"Come on, Commander! You've got more skill than that! Again!"

The Iron Bull let him up, and Cullen wiped the dirt that clung to his chin away. A different approach this time. He kept his eyes fixed on the Iron Bull's knowing he could never beat him one on one physically. Not with arms. He dropped low and brought his leg across for a sweep, catching The Iron Bull off guard enough to warrant success. The Qunari fell and Cullen pinned him to the earth, both arms secured across Bull's chest under the full weight of his knee. A winded grunt came from the man, and Cullen could feel himself breathing heavy. Their audience cheered and Bull gave a nod, "Nice one, Commander."

He got off, though there was a definite surge of confidence that came with having bested the other. A hand was extended as he pulled Bull up to his feet.

The Qunari addressed the group, "Now, the next time the Commander bests someone my size, he'd probably be best off securing my legs so I really don't have anything to fight back with. That said, you're all likely sore. Go wash up and take the rest of the day off!"

The group cheered once more before dispersing giving Cullen a moment to cast a glance to Cassandra. He was too dirty to put any of his things back on and recognizing that, Cassandra made a disgruntled noise, "I'll have these brought to your quarters if it's not already flooded."

"Thank you, Cassandra," He exhaled, wondering if he was best off washing with the troops.

There was too many people, too much could go wrong. He rubbed the back of his neck, disappointed when it only served to smear more mud across his skin. He gave an aggravated noise of his own.

"So, Commander," Bull hadn't left to wash up either, "You get some of that frustration out or you want to go a few more rounds?"

"I don't--" His eyes raised and it was a look that knew. Cullen clenched his jaw, "I owe you an apology."

"No, you don't actually," Bull rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, "And you aren't expecting an apology from me either so I think we're even."

"…This is a mess," He lifted his arm, almost as if he was speaking of the ground.

Bull gave a nod, lowering himself a bit so he stood more at level with Cullen, "Yeah, just a little bit. But it'll clear up." He gestured for Cullen to come at him.

He moved without thought, slamming his body against the Iron Bull, only to have his arms caught and pushed with an opposite direction of force.

"And if it doesn't," Bull grunted, "Then we're all gonna have a nice long chat in private. No loose ends."

Cullen's foot slid, slipped, and fell forward. Bull became an anchor, heaving him back upright and set him steady. "I can't do it," Cullen admitted quietly, trying to dig his feet deeper into the ground, "You have to understand that."

"I do, but Dorian might not," Bull sighed, "Come on, one more. _Really_ come at me this time."

He pounded his chest with both hands as he backed up, giving Cullen plenty of running room should he decide to charge. He waited for Bull to settle into a ready position, shoulder first this time when he sprung forward to knock Bull down. There was enough force behind the blow that they both toppled over against the soggy earth with only a moment to feel the brunt of it. Bull crossed an arm over, around Cullen's back, making it difficult for him to get away. He struggled against the restraint, kicking his legs while he tried to push himself free. Bull wasn't holding him that tightly, allowing Cullen to fight against him until he broke free. He rolled over into a puddle, hand seeping in making it difficult to scramble away. The tone had been set. Bull wasn't going to let him rest until he was exhausted, so they wrestled just like he suggested, trying to pin the other into submission only to break free again and again.

The rain soaked through skin, mixing with sweat as they persisted. Without the guise of his usual attire, people simply passed them by, assuming the Iron Bull was sparring with just another Charger. Cullen was an utter mess, breathing heavily as his arm was cinched behind his back, pushed and pressed into a position he couldn't throw off. His cheek brushed a few blades of grass as he tried to jostle Iron Bull's hold once more to no avail.

"You done?"

He tried to fight it but was failing. He couldn't get out.

"I'm done," Bull breathed out, "But I won't let you go until I know you're finished."

Cullen tried to break out again, a sharp pain sparking in his shoulder from the attempt, "No-not yet…"

"You'll hurt yourself doing that."

Cullen stilled.

Bull let go of him and stood back, letting Cullen fall face first into slackened dirt with a sputter and a splash. He scrambled about trying to get free of the new restraint that found him, aided by Bull pulling him back up by the collar of his shirt.

They were both decorated soldiers, hands dirtied, faces marred. Bull cleared the slick grit from Cullen's face even though his own remained painted, "You know what Vitaar is, yes?"

"It's… Qunari wear it in battle," Cullen's brows furrowed, "Like war paint."

"And in place of armour," Bull gave a nod, "We mix it with our blood so the poison won't kill us and in the process, it aids us. If any human were to try such a trick, they'd be dead."

Bull brushed Cullen's hair out of his face, drew earth up between his fingers and brushed a design onto the blond's forehead with his thumb. A line under both eyes and an additional mark was placed under his bottom lip.

He gave a small smirk and pat Cullen on the shoulder, "Don't be too hard on yourself, Commander. If you're not ready, then you take your time."  
He rose to his feet and stretched with a groan, "My door's always open. Avoid it if you want, but it's open."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks @ eveemma for helping me edit this chapter!


	6. Minestrone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hit a bit of a bump towards the end of the last chapter where i had ideas of where i wanted it to go but had difficulty working out so i took some liberties with this one.  
> thank you all again for leaving kudos and comments and reading regularly. i appreciate it immensely.  
> i don't think i've made any of my written works this public in a very long time so in a way its frighteningly refreshing.
> 
> an additional note, you can read Grey Area alongside this one to get a fuller perspective on what's going on. (the second part of the goats in trees series) It's a compilation of short drabble like pieces that relate to the going ons in Today's Oatmeal
> 
> chapter specific warnings include: mentions of abuse, assault, sexual harassment and necrophilia

His routine was thrown off even if it was easily repaired by returning to his room, something he accomplished after the initial scramble that started his day. Though the discomfort of his trousers and lack of certain material did leave him walking a little funny wIth or without the assistance of sexual rounds enjoyed the night before, Dorian bathed before making the full trip back to his quarters. He intended to stay out of the rain for a long as possible the trek across the yard had been entirely unpleasant. Looking like a drowned rat was no his ideal way to start the day. When he had finally realized he had left his underwear behind, the idea of traversing back to obtain it was absolutely out of the question.

He filled his basin with fresh water after his coffee began to filter through and went about things as if it were any other day. His mind wandered to the night prior while he shaved. If the Commander came asking for an explanation, he'd apologize. If the Commander didn't come by at all, then he'd go and apologize.

_If the Commander came and asked for a game…_

Dorian paused and glanced out his window. It was raining, even under the gazebo, there was little appeal. He flung the thought aside as he ran the razor down his face.

Kohl and perfume, he tidied up his look, reaching for the product he kept to pull together any loose ends. He looked around his desk, his night table, drawers, bed. It was no where to be found so he made do with styling his hair and moustache the old fashioned way, between his fingers. Not quite the same by any means but it would have to do for the time being.

He left his quarters only to fetch the materials he had been working with the day prior. Piling them under his arms and using what movement he had left to open things with a little subtle magic. He arranged the books about his room and took to dedicating himself to solitary study, one free of a most miserable draft and cruel whispers around the corner. He let the words sprawled on every page be his distraction, sipping coffee between his own note taking and journal writing so his focus stayed strong on the task at hand.

He had every intention of spending the day locked away from the world in his room for as long as possible.

* * *

 

"Ambassador, I was told you had something you needed to discuss with me in person," Cullen announced as he made his way through the double doors.

Josephine's head raised with a look of surprise that only seemed to amplify the longer he stood there.

"It is a matter I believe surely can wait," The Lady Montilyet raised concerns of her own, "At least until after you've bathed, I would think."

Cullen looked down to see that he had tracked mud in like any common Mabari pup. The carpet would need to be taken out and cleaned before the Inquisition's Ambassador would see any more guests, he was sure.

"Though there is one thing I can tell you while you are here," She returned to her own work, "Leliana received word that the Inquisitor has already completed his tasks in the Exalted Plains early and is due back today. When you've a moment, after your bathing, there is something I'd very much like to discuss in private. Its nothing to get worked up over, rest assured. Just see me if you have some free time at all in the near future."

He bowed his head, "Understood."

"Nice markings, by the way," She smiled, "Is that… The Iron Bull? Surely you did not paint such on yourself."

"I-uh…" He cleared his throat, "I did not. " He lowered his head again with indication that he was taking his leave and started towards the baths which he hoped were slightly less filled than they may have been towards the end of training with the troops.

It was a blessing without disguise. The baths were empty, allowing Cullen the satisfaction of tending to himself without any prying eyes. He washed, throughly and diligently, ridding himself of all dirt, mud, grass and stains before getting to the simpler part of the process. Fear of someone walking in at any point kept him from fully indulging in the experience but what he did manage to enjoy he was most grateful for.

He collected his dirtied clothes in a bag and realized a moment too late that he had nothing of his own to change back into. He looked about the room, hoping someone had forgotten more than just the usual stock of towels for him to rush back to his quarters in. All those stories he told about Alistair were coming back to get revenge, not that the king would ever know of this particular tale but Cullen felt it no less.

A knock, Cullen pulled a towel around himself, fretting.

"It is just me, Commander," Cassandra's voice rang through from the other side, "Josephine told me you went to the baths. I thought you might need these."

He half jogged to the door, pulling it open so he could peer through the crack to see what it was she was offering. Breeches and a clean shirt.

He breathed a sigh of relief, "May I trade you?"

Cassandra gave a small smirk, "Only this once. I do not want to make a habit of trading off for dirty clothes."

She passed off the clean clothes for the soggy ones within the bag so that Cullen shut the door and get changed as quickly as he was able.

"You seem a bit out of it today, Cullen," Cassandra commented, "Is everything alright? Josephine told me how you came in without second thought to how you looked."

"I… Might be a bit distracted," He admitted, tying the breeches up securely before stepping out of the room, "But it's nothing to do with my withdrawals, I assure you."

"Then I will perish the thought," She handed the laundry back to him, "You've eaten?"

He held the bag out so it wouldn't get on himself or anything so long as he could help it, "Only a little."

"Then perhaps you should join me for lunch. I'd like to hear your thoughts on how the Inquisitor might approach Emprise du Lion. We've looked over a portion of the map but last we went, he was still struggling."

"So long as you don't mind my not wearing any boots," Cullen offered with a smirk.

"Oh--! I should have brought you a spare. My apologies."

Lunch was a rather refreshing assembly of bread and meats. An array of similarly put together sandwiches and soups, something to lift the spirits of those who felt brought down by the rain. Maker knew Cullen needed it as he dipped the corners of his sandwich into the soup before taking any bite. Cassandra was describing the location to him, how to traverse and the difficulty they faced with their foes.

"Perhaps you should take him aside and teach him your own strategy when it comes to such. He seems eager to listen to you."

"Yes, but he wields a two-handed weapon. I could give him some pointers, sure, but there still isn't a lot I would know from experience."

"Then get the Iron Bull," he offered.

The look on her face said everything.

"I stand by my first suggestion," He grinned, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Cassandra let out a groan and fell into her hands, "I am pathetic! The Iron Bull would be the best bet but I…"

"Are afraid he doesn't return your feelings?"

"No!" She gave him a flustered look of alarm, "-Yes…. Oh Maker, am I really that apparent?"

"I am not the best person to judge you on that," Cullen admitted with a sigh, "But it may be something to discuss with him when he returns."

"I'm not-It's not really…" Her shoulders heaved, "It's not wrong of me for thinking he's been flirting this entire time, is it?"

Cullen quickly spooned up more of his soup, "Probably not."

"But all of that with the Iron Bull, what was that?" She groaned.

Cullen could feel his face begin to fluster, "Something… Physical. Can we change the topic?"

"Oh! Of course, I'm sorry. I did not mean to drop that on you," She shaded her face with her hand, "..How embarrassing of me."

"You and Inquisitor Trevelyan have much in common, I'm sure. You have my well wishes regardless of the outcome."

"Thank you, Commander."

They finished eating in near silence, only bringing up the remotest of issues before Cullen thanked her for the company and clothes. They parted ways and Cullen returned for whatever it was Josephine wished to discuss.

"I'm afraid I'm without any shoes," He announced upon entering, "But I am. at the very least, clean."

"Oh good," Josephine got to her feet and ushered her reporter off with whatever business they had concluded before he entered, "If you'll please follow me, Commander."

And he followed her back out the way he had come in, towards the Inquisitor's quarters. Nerves were quickly creeping up into his as they entered and climbed, unsure what it was that Josephine had planned. 

Did she know about the butterbile? Was she going to scold him for it? He had no idea until she opened her mouth.

"Varric thought it may be a good idea to have some of the Inquisitions more formidable members get together for a game of Wicked Grace in the near future. Some stress relief before we really dive into things. In short, I was wondering if I could consider your attendance for such. Leliana has already said no but I thought with at least two of us, it should present well for the moral of all in Skyhold. What do you say?"

"I-uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck, "Sure, I suppose. Is there any idea as to when?"

"Provided all went well in the Exalted plains, it very well might be as soon tomorrow."

"Oh," He blinked, "Well… I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"Excellent, I will tell him your attendance is to be expected," She smiled at him, "Varric already asked if I would be willing to play dealer, I said yes. You may want to get some practice in, Commander. That said, I look forward to playing Wicked Grace with you."

Cullen gave a snort, "Right, likewise, Ambassador."

"One more thing before you go," She was smiling though Cullen felt his stomach drop at the vaguest of possibilities, "If you've ever a need to speak to anyone about anything personally, you are always welcome to come to me, Commander. I know it can be a little alienating to be kept up inside your office all day, even with everyone you may see about your business throughout."  
She took a breath, "What I'm trying to say is, should you find yourself craving casual conversation, feel free to stop by at any point, Commander. Or you could look at it as a way of listening to me vent for several hours. Either way, it may be good for us both and it is something I should have offered much sooner than I have."

She gave Cullen a smile, and he found relief in what she said as well, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you Josephine."

"Right, well. We've both our duties to attend so I should let you be. Take care, Commander," She bowed, taking her leave before Cullen even thought to follow.

The door shut, he stood listening to the rain out on the balcony.

The liquor.

He got up to check if it had been returned to where they had lifted it and much to his own amazement, it was. Still half full but returned. He let out a sigh and made his way back towards to his office, feet patting across the path of water and stone as he jogged to his quarters, hoping he wouldn't be out long enough for it to soak through.

Today was a day for casual wear as his usual garb hung from his training dummy in an attempt to let it dry. A small puddle formed on the floor around it but such was expected with the weather today. He rung out what he could into a bucket and hoped the air would take care of the rest, lighting the usual candles to help heat things along. More paperwork had piled on his desk which was expected unlike the small canister that sat beside it. He didn't recall that item being there before.

He picked it up andturned it over, studying the small tin of metal before opening it to see what it contained inside. There didn't seem to be any recognizable label on it nor any letter nearby indicating it was.

Wax?

He sniffed it, senses overcome with a familiarity that he hadn't consciously ingested.

Dark hair, grey eyes, great smile and a brief conversation. He slammed the canister shut, pulse racing from the simplest recognition.

There was no way he was as lovelorn as Cassandra, not after last night. Not after running away from the many opportunities he had been presented with. 

He shut his eyes and set it back down. Styling his hair today seemed like it would be an inefficient use of time anyways given that any plans he had to leave would involve running through the rain again. He have to get dinner eventually but even then, there'd be no opportunity to return the tin. He sighed and rounded his desk, ready to get back into his work.

Just as he got into his chair, a knock came at his door.

"Come in."

"He _eey!_ " An unfamiliar voice. Cullen lifted his head to see the Inquisitor's Arcanist enter the room. _What was her name again?_

"You're the Commander, right?" She was carrying something that had been covered with a bowl, "Commander Cullen! Must suck being stuck all the way out here with no one to talk to. I mean, I kind of work away from everyone but at least there's Harritt! Even if he is a bit of a grump."

Cullen sat uncertain of whether he should rise to greet his unusual guest, "You work in the undercroft..?"

"Correct! Arcanist Dagna, at your service," She stepped in a bit but not too much, "I don't want to track any mud in but I did bring these for you!"

"These?"

"Cookies!" She cheered, removing the cover to the plate she carried, "These are all yours. Part of the kitchen's attempt to keep everyone's spirits up, I guess. We got chocolate chip! Not you, Harritt and I, I mean."

Cullen got to his feet to accept the offer, as turning her away at this point seemed entirely too cruel, "Thank you. I -uh…"

"No payment necessary!" She exclaimed, "Just doing my bit on a otherwise slow day."  
She paused to ponder something, "Hey, you were at Kinloch Hold, right? Before _alllllll_ this. I studied there for a while but…"

"I was transferred back to the Chantry," He held the plate, feeling tense over the topic.

"You were there when all that stuff happened. I remember you now. I mean, I still remember all the marks on the floors and the dead bodies but I never actually saw any of what happened."

Cullen put the plate down on his desk, "You are blessed to have missed it."

"Honestly, yeah," She nodded, "It would have been awful to go from one mess and end up in another. Timing couldn't have been better for me!"

Cullen took a seat, looking up across the room to where she stood. She seemed to take that as indication to shut the door. Not what he intended but he very well couldn't just kick her out like this even if the topic wasn't his favourite.  
"What do you mean?"

Dagna shrugged, "Politics. Orzimmar hasn't been the greatest as handling its internal issues. All based on the ancestors and what they do determines what you'll do. Not to say I didn't like what my Ancestors did, just that I wanted to do more."  
"My father's memory was starting to go before I left," She explained, "Because of all the lyrium he worked with."

"And you didn't think to stay and help him?" Cullen narrowed his gaze, feeling it to be almost like a personal attack.

"Well... When you're own father starts hurting you for pointing out certain issues, well intentioned or not, and then denies that he even hit you in the first place," She took a breath, "It kind of stopped crossing my mind after a certain point."

His face fell, "Oh-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no. It's okay. Actually it feels kind of nice to say out loud," Dagna smiled, "Like dropping stones out of a bag I've been carrying around in my back pocket for years. 'Just sorry it was your desk I dropped them on."

Cullen's gaze dropped to his desk, a pile of cinnamon cookies sat on the plate before him.

"...As cookies! Would you look at that?" She cheered, gesturing to the plate, "So I guess that makes up for it a little."

It earned a chuckle from Cullen as he picked up one to nibble on, "I suppose it does. Thank you for bringing these by, Arcanist Dagna."

"Just Dagna is fine," She grinned, "You take care of yourself, Commander and enjoy those cookies!"

She gave him a small thumbs up, stepping back towards the door as he raised a hand to stop her, "Hold on. Can I have that bowl before you go?"

"Huh? Yeah sure. I'll put it on top of this guy for you," She stepped towards the training dummy and set it against a knife and hung it over the head, "Now he's all ready to party."

"Thank you, Dagna."

"You too, Commander," She gave a nod and slipped out, leaving the man alone with his cinnamon cookies.

There was far too much on the plate for him to eat alone, but he took a moment to indulge in them while turning over the papers that had gathered, demanding his attention.

He worked for some time, nibbling almost as often as he scrawled a world. Sign this, approve that, decline this, harshly word that. Once he was done, he set quill aside and rose to his feet. Nearly half a dozen cookies remained and Cullen knew that meant he had nibbled on far more than he intended to. He would have _no dinner_ tonight. The cover was picked up off the dummy and set it atop the plate as Cullen organized himself. He needed something that was far more suitably worn in the rain, so he climbed up to his bed area, tarp still hammered with rain but at least it was only the smallest of leaks rather than a flooded floor. He went through his wardrobe picking out what was the furthest from being fancy to satisfy his very practical needs for the day. The simplest of leather garbs with a hood attached was tossed over his top before returning to his office. He looked over the tin once more.

Maybe Dorian could show him how to use it.

He felt his face flush as he shoved it onto the plate with the cookies. No more of that kind of thought, he picked up the tray, threw up his hood and started out towards the tower.

It was never a long walk when he actually wanted it to be, giving him ample time to hover just beyond the door as he tried to make heads or tails of whether Dorian would be up the stairs or in his own quarters at this hour. It certainly didn't seem like the sort of day Dorian would avoid being social so Cullen trusted his intuition and made his way towards the gardens. Stairs still had to be climbed but he could always take a minor detour through more before winding and finding his way back. Maybe it was just an excuse to delay the inevitable. A slightly longer trip. He knocked on Dorian's door and waited.

It was pulled open as if by magic, leaving Cullen more than a little startled.

Dorian was perched on his bed, back to the window, blanket wrapped around his shoulders with books laid out across his lap. He held a quill to his lip, posed in thought until his gaze shifted from page to door.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, eyes going wide, "I… was not expecting to see you today."

It would be easy to leave, just turn around and pretend as if he'd never come but that would be too cruel. Cullen couldn't bring himself to do that, not today. He stepped inside instead, offering out the plate, "I wasn't sure if you were included amongst the treats that are assumably going around today, so I brought…" He took a breath, "Some. Cookies. Dagna brought me some Cinnamon cookies and there was no way I was going to finish them all so I thought-"

Dorian had put his books down, crossing the room and taking the bowl off so he could see for himself, "Along with my hair wax, it seems. Not to your liking, Commander?"

He stammered, "I-uh… Didn't actually try any. I wanted to thank you though. And apologize. Last night I was-"

"Drunk," Dorian nodded, picking the tin up, weighing it in his hand, "As was I but that doesn't excuse my behaviour either. I am ashamed for pressuring you as I did."  
Cullen fell short of words most often in areas of gratitude, forgiveness and apologies. He tried to grasp at something to say in return but Dorian seemed to have that covered for him, "You're leaving is entirely warranted so, please, just allow me my bit. I'm not excepting you to forgive me either."

He set the tin down next to the mirror, Cullen's gaze lingered on it as Dorian moved back towards his bed.

"Are you planning on staying?" He took a seat back, "Because if you're not, you can just leave the plate there by the dresser and I'll get them when I'm hungry."

He passed Dorian to the directed location, "Actually, there is something I should tell you."

He set the cookies down and shut the door, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. His eyes shut.

_Maker, give me strength._

"Kinloch Hold, Fereldan's Circle of Magi," He started, daring not to open his eyes or look up, "When I served there - _While_ I served there, a mage became possessed by a demon and began turning all others into abominations or worse. I was-"  
His shoulders heaved as he shook his head, "Its not easy for me to talk about. I watched so many of my friends suffer and die and--"

"Cullen."

He raised his head to look at Dorian, so sympathetic in his expression.

"You don't have to go on if its too much."

"No, I should. I owe it to you," He nearly choked on the words, "As-… As someone who works closely within the Inquisition you deserve to know. As a friend and a mage, I feel it's only fair I tell you."  
"I killed so many, without a second thought. I witnessed so much pain, and Kirkwall was no better, it just provided a better outlet. It seemed as though I was doing _just_ work. I thought I was."

"Is that your way of telling me ' _don't like me because I'm a terrible person_ '? Because if it is, I'm afraid I've got some news for you," Dorian's gaze was sharp, "We've all done terrible things. _Regretful_ things. I'm not going to turn this into a contest of what's worse but the person you are now is not the person you were then. You've proven that."

"I know that and I'm not claiming that-- It's part of what makes me who I am today but there's more," Cullen blurted out, "Just-- not the bad stuff."  
He covered his face not even certain how to phrase it as he never thought they would be words he'd let leave his mouth, "The demons… They tormented me, taunted me to the point where I couldn't--Couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. I…"  
He cringed as he tried to put the words together, "And I…"  
" _Maker_ , this shouldn't be so hard to say!" He shouted, frustrated with his own inability and vulnerability, "I fucked her! She was dead and I fucked her!"  
"And they kept telling me how good I was, how much she loved me," Tears pricked at his eyes and every breath stung, "Whispered in my ear, told me--"  
"Told me how I looked, told me I was stunning, anything to stroke my ego and make it easier for them to break me down, make me vulnerable, turn me into one of them."  
He dropped his head, the tears were spilling out despite his every intention to hold them inside, "…And now you know. That's why I ran, that's why I can't-I can't do this. It's not that I don't want to, I thought it might be for awhile but its not. Or maybe it was-- I'm not sure any more."

"….Did you want to sit?" Dorian offered without moving from where he was.

Cullen wiped at his eyes, shaking his head, "No, I… Said what I came to. I should leave you to your work."

"I'd offer a game, if you're up for one, but I'm afraid that would mean sending you out in the rain again," Dorian set his books back down so that he could get to his feet and fetch a lute, "Do you know any songs, Commander?"

"No," He scoffed, "Just hymns."

"Good enough," Dorian smiled, "I'll play, and you try to figure out which hymn I'm playing by singing along."

Cullen wasn't certain how he agreed, but he found himself sitting, listening and occasionally, singing. Dorian harmonized when he matched the words to the melody, signifying that he had been correct. His voice lingered in a manner that differed from Cullen's own, soothing and smooth, not at all matching the below of a Fereldan Chantry boy.

He was half tempted to tell Dorian such but held his tongue instead, letting Dorian's voice wash over the room with simple strumming of the lute. The mage hardly seemed to realize he was the only one singing for a time, lost in songs that spanned ages. 


	7. Rhubarb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who wanted all those in between scenes for wicked grace? i did. so that's fair chunk of the chapter.

Cullen brought the cookies over to the bed which provided indication to Dorian that he had indeed gone off on his own. Such a fact was hardly discouraging to the mage who made a switch from songs of the common tongue to songs composed entirely in Tevene, of which Cullen understood not one word.

They sounded nice at least, and each word seemed to roll off Dorian's tongue with such clear ease and a familiarity that was lacked in common tongue. Cullen offered him a cookie, one that was accepted by mouth and not hand, reducing Dorian song to simple melody and a half hummed mumble. It hadn't been his intention to interrupt the song and it was almost as if he hadn't. A habit of Dorian's, adjusting to the surrounding circumstance, unexpectedly making changes in ways Cullen could never predict. He found himself smiling, laughing as the mage took it upon himself to make a comedic act out of eating the cookie he had been given, swearing only when it crumbled around his mouth. A larger chunk of cookie thudded against his lute and, subsequently, landed on his bed.

"Kaffas!" He cursed around what he had in his mouth. The playing stopped and he set the lute aside to pick the crumbs from his bed, "Now there'll be mice and bugs in no time."

Cullen only laughed harder, tears threatening the corners of his eyes as he wiped them away. It had been too long a day and he was by all accounts exhausted. Still, it felt good to laugh.

"I'm glad my miseries amuse you," Dorian quipped although he was grinning too, "You're welcome to help me clean. These crumbs aren't going to take leave on their own."

"Oh, sorry," His breath returned though still fleeting as the odd chuckle slipped out. He collected the crumbs too small to be eaten off the bed by getting off to collect them in his hand before tossing the rest in the small bin Dorian kept near the door. Full of papers, assumably scrapped letters and the like, Cullen wasn't going to pry.

"Perhaps I should eat them over the plate next time," Dorian joked as he tried to finish what remained of his cookie, "These are good. I'm disappointed no one came by with a special batch for me."

"They likely went through the tower and halls," Cullen returned to his seat, "But I had my suspicions that you weren't there."

"And how correct your suspicions were," Dorian grinned, "Thank you for bringing these to me. They're incredible."

"You're welcome," And with those words, Cullen felt the conversation die. An self-awareness came with it. _What was he doing here?_

He fidgeted with his garb, glancing to the door and across to the window. The sky was dark though the rain sounded fainter, softer.

"You're welcome to stay," Dorian offered, seemingly reading his thought.

It served as more of a reason for Cullen to get back onto his feet, "No, I-… I've kept you from your work long enough. I should be going."

"Cullen," Dorian's voice was soft, subtly alluring and while well intentioned, coaxing him to sit back down, all with the simple call of his name. It rendered Cullen between flight and fight, he stood frozen.

"Why don't we take a walk down by the statue instead?" He offered, rising to his feet as well, "It'll get me out of my hole in the wall, and… Well, we can decide who goes where after that."

The blond let out a sigh, "Alright, but you really shouldn't go drinking tonight."

Dorian gave him appeared astounded, "Is my drinking suddenly an issue for you, Commander?"

Cullen hesitated, he had breached a topic he hadn't meant to though there seemed not getting away from it now, even if he were to reach for the door. "Not an issue, just a concern."

"What I do with my free time--" Dorian started.

Cullen cut him off, "Isn't any of my business, but as a…. Friend, I'm concerned."

Dorian passed him for the door, "Come on then. If this is a night of confession then we might as well make the setting appropriate."

He left assuming Cullen would follow and after an exit like that, Cullen would be foolish not to. He trotted behind the mage with quick determined strides, an air about him that lead Cullen to believe that perhaps he was about to learn something he may not enjoy about the other.

It might give him more reason to distance himself, more reason to label the sensations and emotions he felt as nothing more than delusions. Dorian took the stairs down, quick feet patting against the stone as they reached open air. The wind was still wicked but the rain was just drizzle now, nothing compared to the downpour of the past morning. He followed Dorian back to shelter and then to the statue of Andraste, shielded from the rain and wind. Dorian lit the candles with magic upon entering, causing Cullen to hold his breath, however briefly, before setting foot inside. What surprised him most wasn't that, it was the fact that Dorian knelt before the statue and offered a prayer, both in common tongue and Tevene. Despite knowing Dorian was devout in his own way, seeing it was different than just hearing him say it. He wondered if he should step forward and join him but remained planted to the spot as a mere observer.

"When I was still in Tevinter, I hit a point in my life where I felt I had few choices. Swear myself to marriage and live a lie, or become such an scandalous wreck, that my father would have no choice but kick me from House of Pavus. Neither such thing happened, but at the time, the later seemed more favourable than the first."

Dorian rose to his feet, "So I drank, and when I drank, I would visit brothels and sleep with men as such was my preference. I did this repeatedly for some time only to be dragged back to my home and lectured most thoroughly."

"Eventually a man, my former mentor, Alexius found me before my parents after one of these evenings out and took me in instead. Offered me a place away from home to study and make something of myself separate from what they wanted of me. He gave me a chance when I thought no one else would, and for awhile, it was good. My parents approved and I felt myself approaching a future where I might be happy."  
"...Alexius's son was sick with the blight, asked me for my assistance and at that point. I was in a good place at the time, so I agreed. I felt I owed it to him, I still do. My decision would have remained unchanged for that reason even now."  
He took a breath and lowered his head. His back remained  to Cullen the entire time he spoke, "The downside was the fact that I gave up whatever momentum I had built up to do so. My future was put on hold to help those I held dear. It wasn't easy, I slipped back into old habits and my father…" He stopped short to take a shuddered breath, "Disapproving of my behaviour, thought to decide for me. He sought to change me, so I left."

The silence that followed spoke more than Dorian's own words ever would. A cool breeze whistled through the crack in the door as they both stood locked in place.

"…I'm sorry," Cullen offered eventually.

"Don't apologize," Dorian's voice cut, "I spared you all the truly crucial details, like the fact that I sold out my family's amulet, the one that distinguishes me as a member of the House of Pavus. Something I did foolishly in the heat of the moment, but even that is vanilla in comparison to the many I glazed over."  
"I can't even get worked up enough to be spiteful right now. It just… Hurt, simply put."

Cullen held his tongue, afraid he might offer another apology for actions that were not his own. Even as a sympathy, Dorian didn't seem to want it.

"The air here is incredibly heavy," Dorian declared, muggy and humid between the rain and the fire, "So, Commander, unless you have intentions for Our Dear Lady, I propose a walk."

"To where?" The words left his mouth before he could think on them.

Dorian gave him an incredulous look, "Do we need a destination?"

Cullen supposed they didn't, his answer was holding the door open while Dorian strolled out before him, waiting just long enough for him to follow.

"I've yet to make comment on your hair," Dorian offered, easing them towards more casual conversation, "So this is the untamed look of Commander Cullen. No uniform, and unruly curly hair. I quite like it."

The Commander felt a flush creep up into him. Genuine compliment or flirting, Cullen unconsciously took them as one of the same, "I'm afraid its not a common look for me."

"Nor would I expect it to be," Dorian began to stroll back inside, "But it is a nice change. You come across more personable this way."

His mind blanked on what to say. There seemed no response he could give that would somehow come out misconstrued between brain and mouth, so they walked, accompanied by the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. Paths taken diverted from the usual track any of Skyhold's usual attendants, tunnelling down and around Skyhold and just when Cullen thought they might have gotten lost, they had returned to an area he recognized. They walked for some time, spoke little and kept such conversations simple. Too much had been delved into too much for them to come back to any of the serious topics they had breeched before. He was certain it was something that couldn't be brought up without some charged emotion response so Cullen focused on another question that lingered in his mind the longer they walked.

_Where would he go after?_

They were destination-less, wandering the corridors for what felt like hours. A hidden library riddled with spiderwebs took up some of their time and Dorian read a passage from a few of the books, utterly fascinated by their find. He collected a few to haul up with him to his room, wondering aloud as to whether the Inquisitor even knew of this space. "It certainly doesn't appear well kept."

Cullen couldn't help but agree as he hadn't known of its existence either. He followed Dorian back, knowing he was likely to get no rest if he were to return to his own quarters.  
But...  
He shouldn't stick around just to keep Dorian up either though, he thought, he mentally searched for an alternative. Roaming the halls had been a fine pastime but doing such until dawn seemed like a bit much.

It was a different story when Dorian invited him back, mentioning a book he had Cassandra located for him. He wanted Cullen to cross reference some of the accounts recorded if he was able. It seemed intriguing, whatever it was, so Cullen agreed and back they started.

"Now where did I put it?" Dorian pondered as he looked about his room for the aforementioned book. End table nor floor, Dorian searched about until he recovered it so he might pass it off to Cullen, "Here we are."

"…Templar Tomfoolery, saucy little tales from the barracks…." Cullen read slowly, comprehending the words only as they left his mouth. His gaze rose to meet Dorian's, who appeared all too amused by it all. He did his best to hide the fluster he felt, "This is what you wanted me to cross reference?"

"Well, as to whether it's all jut simple fabrications of fiction or there lies potential truths, I'd like to know," Dorian grinned, "I know so little of you Southerners, I thought it would be a good way to learn."  
"And lets not to mention that all books seemingly banned down here immediately calls my attention to it. I needed to know."

"No," Cullen handed the book back, "I think it's best if I leave you to ponder that on your own."

Dorian gave a pout, accepting the book back, "Fine, but know that you are missing out on some marvellous tales, factual or not."

He handed Cullen another one instead. Translated Tales from Tevinter. He hoped it wouldn't ring along the same lines as the last.

Dorian did well to dispel any doubts concerning such quickly, "They're fairytales I was told as a child. Some of them are unexpectedly dark but others are genuinely uplifting. Give the read if you're the time."

Cullen took a seat on the bed, he was here because he had the time now, "If you don't mind the extra company."

"No, not at all."

Dorian brought the plate of cookies closer to the bed and set himself up in an arrangement all his own as he started back into his own reading. It was a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional turn of a page or crunch of a cookie. Tevinter's lore for children was fascinating. Plenty of wisdom offered through encounters with dragons and fables that darkspawn would snatch them away should they not finish their dinner just as their parents asked (or something of equal weight).

There was personification of certain God's and statements that seemed directly linked to the events of the Third Blight of which Cullen knew very little. Half way through the collection, he began to feel drowsy. A little over that mark, his eyes felt heavy. It wasn't his intention to fall asleep reading as he did but he drifted off with the book open on his lap, leaning against the wall as whatever exhaustion he felt caught up with him.

His dreams weren't terrors he recalled upon waking as he hardly recalled them at all. There was no raised pulse and catching of his breath as he woke relatively languid and slow. Dorian was asleep beside him, although his position on the shared bed did not appear nearly as comfortable. He motivated himself to move, a slight shift made him aware that his back was incredibly stiff but still manageable. He gently nudged Dorian's shoulder, "Its morning… Dorian, I'm going to get a move on now. Thank you for the book, I'll leave it here and borrow from you some time."

All he got from the mage was a groan in response, curling in on himself. Cullen draped the blanket over top him with a small smile, "Thank you for your company."

"You don't have to go," Dorian mumbled, "But...I suppose you have to… It was nice getting to spend time with you like this."

Cullen gave Dorian a sympathetic smile even if the other could not see it. A moment passed. The mage reached out blindly to grasp at Cullen's hand, a grey eye becoming visible to aid him in this search, "Whatever those demons said or did to you…. You shaped into a good man regardless. You are a good man."

Dorian let out a yawn as he settled back into his bed, intent on sleeping a little longer though his hold remained.  
Cullen let him be.

The sensation lingered on his hand as he carried on through the halls towards the baths. A few of the recruits were present, already washing and sharing stories. They didn't bother to greet him outside of subtle acknowledgement as their conversations continued. He preferred it this way, the center of attention was only ever important when he was doing his job. Outside of that, he preferred to blend in. It was a good way to get a feel for what was on the recruits minds, even if he didn't directly interact with any of them.

"I'm telling you, the bears in the Hinterlands are faaar more aggressive than the ones in the Emerald Graves," One of them explained.

"I've never come across any bears in the HInterlands," Another frowned, "Where are you going when you're there?"

"Near that Grand Forest Villa place. You've never been?"

"Nah, I'm always posted around the crossroads."

No rumors, no gossip, Cullen felt relieved, swiftly going about his business so he could excuse himself from the bath. A quick change back into his tunic, Cullen took his leave, returning to his quarters to dress in to fresher attire. His uniform was still damp, but the rain had let up enough that he should be able to have it properly washed and dried before the afternoon. He sent out the orders for such to be done, resuming work with whatever papers had accumulated in his absence. Soldiers concerns about the Skyhold legend or whatever it was they called it had cleared up a bit as one letter addressed to him read, "Those sacks of stuff are working like a charm!"

He received a letter from Rylen announcing the success of a now working well. Several complaints were addressed to him from soldiers though the ones raising concern for their peers was set aside for later. More immediate concerns tended to relate to shoe sizes not being accommodating enough or the soles wearing out to quickly. He made a note to check in with the shoemaker they had recruited along with the resident tailor about that and resumed flipping sorting his work into piles. Three questions he sorted them by; What could be taken care of now at his desk, what would require walking and what would have to be looked at later (and possibly at the war table).

His choice attire was returned to him just as the sky was beginning to clear. The sun passed half and he felt it suitable that he dressed properly for his job now that the option was available once again. It was reassuring to wear his own armour, he felt naked without it weighted to his chest and limbs. In his own uniform, he felt more focused and like himself. He could work better like this.

He scraped the last of the wax he used to style his hair out of the container to complete the look. A request for more was sent out along with the container itself.

A few more letters were sent between outposts just to ensure things were running smoothly between before a scout entered to inform him that Inquisitor Trevelyan had called for a meeting at the war table. It was a far more casual day at the table, simple of updates on his most recent outing and reports on progress to the efforts made in his absence while he was away. To those that had been completed, spoils were shared. The Inquisitor made mention of his future wishes to pursue Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds soon, even if they would not be heading out just yet. Cullen knew how the rest of his day would be spent.

Everything needed to be prepped and they needed to be ready in every way imaginable. He set all his armour to be checked and repaired if needed in the morning and made requests for such to be done for every soldiers' equipment. They had to bring their best. In areas of more stability, he sent requests to withdraw troops so they could have more present to fight on the front lines in the Arbor Wilds. It turned into a very busy day very quickly. He spent the latter part of his day scouring over maps and planning his troops best method of attack. They'd naturally have more time to look over it as a group to coordinate but so long he could get a head start on what they might come to expect, he would. Any input he could offer when they did get to that point would be most advantageous.

A knock at his door, Cullen lifted his head, "Come in."

"Hey there, Curly. You got a bit?"

He glanced down at the map and back up again, "I suppose I have a bit of time. What is it you need?"

"Well, I know with everything going on, things are-or will be pretty hectic again soon, so, I figured a few of us could use a good night off to kick our feet up, grab some drinks and play a bit of Wicked Grace. What do you say?" Varric was offering a fair deal and had Josephine not made mention, he might have turned Varric down straight out.

He glanced down to the map, "How many people are you expecting?"

"Just a few," Varric explained, "Leliana gave a pass once she heard Josephine was attending but I suspect it's because she's afraid of making things too rowdy. Other than you and Josephine, I'm still going around trying to gather a few people. I'm hoping we'll have enough for a table."

Cullen let out a sigh, there would be time to look it over again later, "Alright. When?"

"I was thinking around or just after dinner. Just swing by the tavern after you have a bite to eat."

A simple nod that he comprehended was all Varric seemed to need as he excused himself out, leaving Cullen with a little more time to finish whatever he aimed to before dinner.

It wasn't much, but there was still enough that he could get some feel for what might be the best course of action. Whoever the Inquisitor decided to take with him into the temple would be important. They'd have to clear a path and whoever wasn't travelling directly with him would be needed on the field.

He mentally organized the potential forces and where their efforts would be best suited. Some notes were taken, one for where he would prefer members of the Inner Circle stand in battle should the Inquisitor not bring them with him. A second sheet for any supplies they'd require for the trip, and the last was filled with suitable locations to set up camp should they make the trek with relative to no disturbances. Leliana had scouts, she could correct him assuming she had the intel.

He hoped he had the intel.

He pulled himself away from his work to get dinner, chicken roast, mixed vegetables and buttered scones. He ate quickly, intent on getting in and out quickly so he could make his way towards the tavern where a few familiar faces had already settled.

"Commander," Josephine greeted him with a grin, "Nice of you to join us."

A drink sat just diagonal of her right, half full already, Cullen noted as he rounded the table to sit opposite of her.

"No one else join in yet?" He asked as he pulled a stool closer to the table.

"Oh, no, Cassandra is here. We came together. She is just getting some drinks and convincing The Iron Bull to join us early," Josephine explained, "As for the rest, I believe that falls on Varric himself."

Cullen leaned back so he could look passed the stairs to see if Cassandra really was trying to get Bull to join them. The Qunari was holding a plate of meat, presumably goat or nug, bickering with Cassandra about not having eaten yet.

"If you're drinking already, I suppose I might as well get some," Cullen brought his attention back to Josephine, "I'm sure Bull will come soon enough."

"I hope so," There was a devilish sparkle to her eye that ate at Cullen in the oddest of ways. She saw too, he reminded himself. He made no effort to excuse himself as he got to his feet, fetching a drink before making any return.

"I've spoken to the bartender," Josephine began speaking the instant he sat back down, "I've arranged it so all drinks for the night are covered by the Inquisition's budget, that way no one has to worry about scrounging their earnings or betting money."

She smiled proudly over that.

Blackwall took a seat beside Cullen with a pint of his own, "Because we wouldn't want to break up the game, that it?"

"Precisely," Josephine grinned, "Should we perhaps play a quick round? Get things warmed up?"

"So long as it doesn't involve coin," Cullen joked.

Sera slammed into the table, startling the table into giving her all of their attention, "Whose gonna win eez gonna be me."

Slurring already, Cullen could only assume she had gotten into a bottle. She hardly seemed to be standing straight and even with the support of the table she was swaying. Despite knowing he had _heard_ here, he had no idea what she just said. 

_Bees?_

She slipped to the floor with a thump, leaving the three sat there unsure of what to do.

"We should probably carry her back to her room," Cullen offered, as he moved to get to his feet.

"Yes, very good idea," Josephine agreed.

"No, she'll be fine. She wants to be here even if she's not awake for it," The demon-spirit made his appearance to take a seat beside Josephine.

"Nice of you to join us, Cole. Did Varric invite you?" The Lady Ambassador inquired lightly.

"Yes," Cole smiled, "He said it would be good for me."

"Varric certainly has his ways," Josephine grinned, "He told me it would be good for Cassandra to join too, even if he did not approach her directly. Much like our Commander."

"He came to see me this afternoon, actually," Cullen added, "You just got the word in first."

"And what a good word it was, I'm certain," Dorian put a hand on Cullen's shoulder as he passed behind him to take a seat on the end, though still one spot away, "Good evening everyone. I was told we would be playing cards. I hope the rules don't differ too much from the version I'm used to playing."

"Are we playing with rules from the Free Marches or Fereldan?" Josephine asked, "It's confusing enough when the version I'm most familiar with is actually Orlais."

"Free Marches, I hope," Blackwall grunted, scooting his seat forward.

Cassandra crossed the room to take a seat beside Dorian, gesturing to Sera as she passed, "I'd ask, but I don't want to know. Surely she would be best off in a bed."

"She wants to stay though," Cole voice again.

Bull set his plate down on the table, "So she stays. Do we have enough seats for everyone?"

"Hold on, has anyone seen the Inquisitor?" Varric had poked his head in through the door, drawing the groups attention passed the fireplace. In unison, heads shook earning a disapproving noise from the dwarf, "Hang on, I'll go get him. Don't start without us."

"Understood," Josephine gave him the okay and Varric was off again for a bit. Bull had taken to rolling Sera under the table, much to the concern of the others at the table, including Cullen, but he wasn't about to upset some spirit-demon to have her returned to bed. With any luck, she'd wake in a little bit and all would be well again.

The table was full, and as the group settled, chatter rose. Perhaps if Cullen had become involved in one, it wouldn't have been so suddenly overwhelming but as it were, he wasn't. He reached for his drink, hoping that would ease his nerves for the time being as conversation flew over his ears.

"So, your the dealer?" Blackwall directed to Josephine.

"Must you eat like that? It makes you look even more savage than you already are," Dorian scolded the way Bull was eating his meat. Thin slices right off the knife.

One of which he offered to Cole, "Here, try some. You're more human now or whatever right? You might like it."

"Dorian, have you read the latest chapter? Please tell me you have," Cassandra pleaded.

"What? No. I didn't even realize he even wrote more than he had."

"No, no, you have to chew it," Blackwall explained to Cole as he held the slice in his mouth with a most uncertain expression.

"You couldn't pay me ten sovereigns to read it," Dorian explained.

"Is that a bet, Tevinter?" Cassandra challenged.

Dorian shook his head in a chuckle, "No, it was a bribe. I'm asking you to bribe me into reading it but if you want to make this interesting, sure. You beat me, I'll read the newest chapter."

Cullen had never seen Cassandra look so excited before in his life, "You're on."

"There you go, Cole!" Josephine cheered.

"It tastes…" Cole gave a confused expression as he tried to decipher it, "Different."

"Yeah, most food does," Bull tried to explain.

Feet were treading down the stairs. Wherever Varric had found Trevelyan, he was bringing him around now. Cullen finished his glass, raising it in greeting and victory of having already downed his first one. He had every intent of staying off the floor however.

"Look who showed up, everybody!" Varric greeted the group again, "Deal him in, would you, Ruffles?"

Everyone was settled again, the table full (plus one unconscious on the floor) and Cullen found himself overwhelmed by how many people were present. One drink wasn't nearly enough to take the edge off.

"You seem to have enough people," He tried to excuse himself, "I have a thousand things to do." And he felt it was no exaggeration.

Dorian did his party to convince him to stay while Varric sealed the deal. He supposed a few rounds couldn't hurt. Any inclination he had to change his mind was interrupted as the game seemingly jumped to a start. A few rounds in along with quite a few more drinks, Cullen found himself sharing stories. The reactions he got for that one was always the best. He prided himself on it. Cassandra and Dorian's bet had been altered to account for the fact that Josephine always seemed to win, but Cullen had been keeping a close eye. He was determined to beat her yet.

Trevelyan announced the need for another round of drink so Cullen hopped to his feet, "I'll get them! And don't start without me."

He felt loose, at ease. He collected and returned with enough mugs to satisfy the table. Varied thanks from each as he collected their emptied mugs to set aside before the game resumed again.

"I can't believe it," Dorian stated astounded, "I have to read that damned story again."

"Which?" Varric asked with amused intrigue.

Cassandra nearly jumped out of her seat, "None of your business! It's a petty bet. One made before you got here."

"You made a bet with Dorian?" Trevelyan leaned forward with a grin.

"And it's none of you're business either," Cassandra responded defensively.

Dorian let out a sigh, "I wonder if it will be more tolerable when read drunk."

"No!" Cassandra shrieked, "Don't trivialize it like that!"

"What is it you're reading, Cassandra?" Josephine leaned towards her as well, "Perhaps I should read it as well."

"You and half the table-" She responded with groan that she cut off a moment too late "No, nevermind. This is pointless. Let's change topics."

"It's not Swords and Shields, is it?" Cullen found himself asking despite any intention to out Cassandra on her guilty pleasure.

Dorian gave a snort.

Varric laughed, "Wait--Curly, you've read Swords and Shields?"

"Only a little," His voice shrunk, "I mean no offence when I say I had difficulty getting through it."

"None taken," Varric grinned, "None taken at all. Alright, Ruffles, don't keep us waiting."

"It's just so nice to have everyone together like this," Josephine beamed but dealt a fresh hand to everyone. The group listened intently to Blackwall while they played, telling of the time where he had participated in a tourney. Trevelyan voiced his enthusiasm over attending many over the course of his lifetime, describing some of his favourite events. None of the stories distracted Cullen from his objective. He was fairly certain he had figured out Josephine's play and had every intention of calling her on it next round.

Play big or go home.

The only factor he failed to take into consideration that he had already spent all the coin he was intent on playing with and the moment Josephine realized this the following round, he knew where this would be headed.

He swallowed his dignity with the ale.

"I heard you hare planning on having your armour checked for repairs tomorrow," Josephine started with a sly smile, "I could have it brought by the smiths tonight instead if you have nothing else to bargain with."

He sighed and began freeing himself of the armour plating.

"Arm guards too, Comamnder."

"Well, this game as certainly got much more exciting," Dorian commented, "I think I'll save my coin to see how this plays out."

"I think its safe to say the Iron Bull is also out," Varric laughed as the man was very clearly passed out at the end of the table, a snore rumbling out of him every other occasion.

Cole pushed at his cards as if contemplating whether to continue, "He's dreaming of bright pink ore shaped into weapons."

"I know when I've been beat," Blackwall turned his hand down, "Wouldn't want to carry on like the Commander."

"Hey!" He huffed to the man at his side.

"No offense, Cullen," Cassandra smirked, "But I do not think there'll be any winning against Josephine. Still, I'll play a few more rounds. I've enough coin."

"Deal me in too," Trevelyan grinned, "I can take it."

Josephine dealt, the round passed and Cullen was now down his coat. He gave a frustrated groan. There was no way he was letting her pull this from under him. He'd prove he had her tell yet.

"Right," Dorian got to his feet after the round, "So more drinks?"

"Yes please," Cassandra encouraged, "Oh, and I believe I'll call it quits here."

Trevelyan gave the group a look, "Well I'm still in."

"Me too," Cullen ground out belligerently.

Varric just gave a laugh shaking his head, "Oh man, Curly, Antivan's play to win. You sure you want to keep this up?"

"Absolutely."

Josephine grinned, leaning forward, "Alright then, Commander. This round, we'll raise the stakes. I win, you removed the rest of your clothes. You win, all my coin is yours."

"You're on," He slammed his hand down on the table as he prepared to get her this time. This time he'd get her tell for sure.

Blackwall let out a raspy laugh, "This'll be good."

"What about me?" Trevelyan looked to Josephine almost like a scolded puppy.

Josephine gave him a sweet smile, "Oh Inquisitor… If you want, you can bet the remainder of your earnings…. And maybe your shirt, if you feel the need to compete on more equal grounds."

"Just what he has left should be fine, Josephine," Cassandra groaned as Dorian returned with drinks.

He traded empty for full as he went around the table, "Whose removing whose shirt now?"

"No one," Cassandra assured him in a sharp tone.

"Ah, disappointing," He eventually found his way back to his seat, leaning back most contently.

"That's something I never quite understood, Dorian," Blackwall instigated from across the table, "What is it about men you find so attractive?"

"I could ask you the same about women," He shrugged, "Ask Cassandra."

Josephine dealt.

"What? Why me?" Her face flushed.

"Alright then, Cassandra, what's so attractive about men?"

She stuttered, stammered, "I don't know! I've never thought about it!"

"See?" Dorian gestured out, "Sometimes you just don't think about it!"

"But you should think about it," Cole interrupted, glancing about the group, "Its good to question sometimes. Because of the grey area."

"Right, the grey area," Dorian agreed as he picked up his drink.

Cassandra gave a confused look, "Grey area?"

"Between boxes. Sexes," Cole explained, "People can have attractive traits but that doesn't make them one thing or separate them from another. Not unless they want to be that."

"This is a bit too much for me to get a grasp on right now," Blackwall admitted as he went for his drink.

"That's something I've never considered before," Cassandra gave a look of enlightenment.

"I like both, all," Trevelyan stumbled over his own words, taking his drink back as he put his hand down, "But I don't think I'm winning this round."

"Same," Josephine smiled, "Though I still have every intention to win."

She rubbed a spot on her forehead to which Cullen narrowed his eyes. His own hand wasn't terrible good but he'd play it on the hopes that she just bluffed.

He was quite sorely mistaken.

"And I win again," Josephine grinned, "I believe that speaks for itself, Commander."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," He groaned as he got to his feet and worked off his belt, then tunic, aggressively turning them out onto the table to be collected by Lady Montilyet.

Cassandra turned her head and shielded her eyes, allowing Cullen some privacy, "I'm not watching!"

"Me neither," Varric added, turning away, "Sorry Curly, but you're just not my type."

Blackwall gave a grunt as he turned away, "No offence."

Cole just watched with astonishment. Cullen would give the spirit a pass this time, working himself up to strip off his breeches but the boots could go first. Bare feet touching the grounds, he tapped his toes.

Four sets of eyes, though Dorian was trying his best to appear more interested in his drink and Trevelyan… Trevelyan was hiding behind his hand in a poor attempt to disguise his line of sight, Cullen noted. Trevelyan was very apparently peaking though his fingers.

Josephine nudged his shoulder for that, a silent tease to encourage indulgence. It earned another sigh from the Commander as he stripped his legs bare and gave Josephine a pleading look as he stood there in his small clothes, "All of it?"

"That was the arrangement."

He shut his eyes and pulled off the last layer of clothes, intent on doing so sitting down so no one would really see.

"There! It's done."

Varric let out a snort.

"Don't say a word, dwarf."

"I tried to warn you, Curly!" Varric shook his head.

"Never bet against an Antivan, Commander," Josephine warned with a devilish grin.

Cassandra put her hands on the table, "I'm leaving. I don't want to witness our Commander's walk of shame back to the barracks."

"Well, I do!" Dorian confessed freely.

He felt his face flush, more at the comment than at the fact Cole had never pulled his gaze away from him.

"It comes off. I didn't know it came off…"

Cullen felt himself get antsy as Cassandra rose from his seat, he waited for everyone else to take their leave, even as a few hovered about as if waiting to witness his walk (or run as he was planning it) across the barracks to his quarters. When it seemed everyone had read that he wouldn't budge until they were all very much not staring and out of his path, he rose to his feet and booked it.

Any mention made of feeling naked without his armour still remained entirely true, although he'd still feel fairly naked if he happened to only be wearing his armour as a similar thought.

"Andraste preserve me," His hissed to himself, feeling the full brunt of the cool night air. His hands moved to cover himself as he half hopped, half ran towards his quarters. There would be no winning his dignity back with Josephine any time soon and if the stories she and Leliana shared were anything to go on, then he would make certain to never join them on an evening out so long as it could be managed.


	8. Smoked Paprika

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this probably would have been up a couple days ago but i had to do a lot of fact checking for the stuff coming up. the save file i based this story around hasn't even passed the first milepoint tbh.... none the less, its providing a fun challenge.  
> thank you all for the kudos and comments! i appreciate it immensely!  
>  **edit:** shortly after posting this my living situation changed a bit so its be really great if those of you reading could check out [my commissions post](http://inurclosets.tumblr.com/post/120080687105/inyourclosets-due-to-the-need-to-pay-bills-and), i'm also considering doing drabble/fic commissions if anyone is interested. thank you for all your support, everyone.

"Commander's got a nice ass," Bull commented leaning on doorframe to Dorian's room. He had knocked and Dorian had answered without hesitation. Any company he may have been expecting was not a list topped by the Iron Bull.

Should he have been as surprised as he was? Absolutely not, but he remained to be regardless.

"Pardon?" Dorian asked in disbelief.

"Commander Cullen," Bull took that as his cue to enter, "Flat yet strangely curvaceous."

Dorian stared at him, utterly appalled, "Am I to believe you snuck a look at him as he bolted out the door?"

"Woke up at the right time," Bull grinned, putting his hands up to frame it, "Full front and centre." 

"I can't believe you."

"Want me to describe him for you?" Bull offered.

"No!" Dorian felt his face heat up at the mere suggestion, "Believe it or not, I do _not_ see Commander Cullen entirely as a slab of meat. He's a friend and I'll respect his wishes to remain as such."

" _Entirely_ ," Bull poked Dorian in the cheek, only to have it swatted away.

"You're one to talk, you brute. If you're planning to stay the night, you could at least shut the door," He hissed.

Bull kissed him on the cheek, "Yeah, but you can do that."

It was true, and Dorian did because he knew Bull wasn't going to, "Doesn't mean I should be the one to do it… Your breath smells terrible, by the way."

"Mmhmm, you gonna fix that for me too?"

"Only if you want a bar of soap in your mouth," Dorian huffed, "So are you…?"

"Staying? Yeah," Bull leaned against him though not with all his weight for which Dorian was grateful, "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not _entirely_ ," He returned the gesture by poking Bull in the cheek.

"Good," Bull caught his wrist, kissing the inside of his hand, "And seriously, if you want to talk about the Commander's ass, we can do that. The ripple of muscle as he moved, it was almost like time slowed around him."

"By the Maker's side!" Dorian cursed him out of his own embarrassment, "Stop making the prospect sound so appealing! I teased him enough during the game, I don't need to--" He took a breath and shut his eyes so his voice could be lowered, "I don't need to fantasize about him like that."

"You two have another talk?" Bull murmured against his fingers.

The mage sighed, "Yes, amends were made and experiences were shared. I am still whole heartedly attracted to him but I'll work through it. It'll be fine. I'll be fine. We'll all be _peachy._ "

"We could always invite him, you know," Bull's eyebrow raised as he gave Dorian a look, "Help him take that edge off."

Dorian felt the sparse hairs on his back bristle, "No no no nono _no_. As much as _I_ would love that, I very much doubt the Commander would find such a prospect appealing."

"I'll talk to him about it," Bull offered, "You two might be friends, but _I_ _know_ people."

Suspicion slipped into Dorian's gaze, "That is to say, you're going to regardless of what I say."

"Probably, yeah," The Qunari gave a nod, "He's gotten a full look already so I imagine he's got to be at least a little curious by now. And that ass." He gave an enthusiastic grunt.

"Okay, but consider this," Dorian diverted, "My ass is right here."

"And what a good ass it is," He kissed Dorian's hand again. In any other situation, it would have been a slap on his behind. It still might prove to be as only time would tell, and time, as curious as it was, was telling Dorian to put his journal down. So he did, setting it on the nightstand as he crossed the bed to straddle Bull's lap.

"With the way you've been talking about Cullen's, mine's beginning to feel a bit neglected. Your favouritism does you no favour."

"I'll make sure it does plenty for you," Bull ensured, taking his attention away from Dorian's hand and pressing his mouth to the man's ear.

It wasn't the most ideal of sexual encounters Dorian had experienced. It was good, incredibly so. Pinned back to the bed with his hands wriggling for something to hold onto was not something he considered to hold immense appeal before now. But here he was, writhing between Bull and the sheets as he was kept on edge with teasing touches and whispered prospects. Such an overwhelming abundance of sensations was something Dorian was not privy to experiencing in any of his prior relationships, not like this. So when he did finally grasp onto _something_ in vain hope that it would offer him some stability, all he really managed to do was set his curtain ablaze and bring an almost impressive end to their evening.

He hadn't even noticed initially, aware that he was hot and sweating, sweltering even, but it was Bull's sudden stop followed by a concerned, "Uh--" that drew the mage's attention to the burning piece of fabric.

"Kaffas!" Dorian shrieked, "Get off me, you oaf!"

He sprung to his feet despite physical urge to ignore it and continue but there were too many valuables present for him to ignore it.  
Like the wooden duck, and all his hard work. He picked up the basin he used to shave in the morning, most glad that he'd forgotten to empty it given his later start in the day, and quenched the flames by dumping the soapy water solidly on the curtain.

Which he realized made an even bigger mess with the water running all over the stony floor towards books and carpet.

More controlled fires were used to stop it from seeping any further, drying it out in its tracks.

"You could help, you know," Dorian hissed to the Iron Bull who was up in the bed simply watching. He kept scouring the floor for any spot he may have missed.

Efforts met with a shrug, "You got it under control."

Dorian put the basin back, agitated not only by the mess, but the abrupt end to their activities. There was nothing quite so mood killing as a sudden burst of flames. He could have just burned down all of Skyhold having sex, wouldn't that have been something?

Bull pulled him back towards the bed, "Hey, don't look so upset. I'll send some of the Chargers by to help you clean up if you want."

"You'd better," Dorian pouted, "This is entirely your fault, I'll have you know. I told you not to talk about it, and then you did. In _detail_."

"Yeah, but it got you really _hot_ ," Bull grinned bringing Dorian back onto his lap, "Imagine the three of us."

" _Maker_ , " Dorian was reluctantly caved, settling against Bull as the other returned to leaving marks along his neck.

"You in the middle," Bull continued, "Or maybe he is. I'm not that picky either. Whatever works best though I've definitely got a few ideas."

"Yes, well perhaps we should just aim to finish up for the night before someone comes barging in after all the racket," Dorian tried to coax, "Next time, you can bring toys and we can play pretend third party all you'd like but for now, I'd really just like to come and get it over with."

"I was thinking we might need something to keep those hands of yours from getting to spell happy," Bull pulled back so Dorian could see his grin, "And I think the Commander would like belts. He seems like a belt kind of guy."

Dorian opened his mouth to inquire what exactly made one a 'fan of belts'. Based on his own attire he wasn't sure if Bull was poking fun at his own wardrobe, suggesting the Commander was fond of his or merely suggesting he wanted to arrange some sort of bondage play with the other man.

A thought and statement he lingered on finding the phrasing for, for too long. Bull's mouth captured his and they resumed what had otherwise left off. The room still smelt awful to the point where it distracted Dorian for awhile. All those tiny hairs in the water had burnt up when he went to evaporate it all. He'd need to air it out in the morning  
It took Bull really getting him back into the mood of things for the thought to leave him with a gasp, physical needs apparent and forefront. Any moans and groans were swallowed by the Iron Bull while hips rocked until satisfaction was found.

The Iron Bull did not make the most suitable company for Dorian's relatively small bed once the afterglow wore off and their energies returned. There was a restless shifting, any attempt to secure a comfortable resting spot for the both of them on the limited surface provided by the mattress proved a struggle. 

An elbow landed in Bull's face, earning a grunt and an apology. Dorian should have learned from the night before that this was a bed best not shared. A good study in all area but this one it seemed. He eventually found a position suitable enough for the body of them and caught whatever inclination for sleep made itself known.

The Fade was always so memorable, twisting to reflect his inner workings. This time a gala, filled up with spirits and familiar faces. Some not so familiar. He dreamed Relinius was there, talking him up and down, offering his advices, smiling at him in a manner so inviting. Dorian knew the person before him wasn't actually Relinius, just a visage and more likely a demon posing as him merely to lure him into a false sense of security. Dorian knew the hook and bait, allowing himself to indulge only as much as necessary before shutting down any attempts at possession. It was a bit like playing _the game._  Only instead of fellow nobles, it was demons, though many of the same principles applied.

They had a relatively refreshing discussion, demon or not. For a few minutes he almost believed he was talking to the man again, one who expressed encouragement in Dorian pursuing his passions. Such a warm smile and a welcoming face.

Dorian woke pining the worst he had in years, but he was still himself and the Iron Bull lay awake beneath him.

"Good morning, Amatus" Dorian uttered in a groggy voice, earning a ruffle of his hair and a kiss on his shoulder.

"Good morning, Kadan" Bull's voice sat lower than usual, something he didn't think possible. It was a soothing sound, indulged about in their more quiet moments. His voice could be so low and yet so gentle, so inviting. He let his eyes slip shut again for just a moment to indulge in the subtle differences.

The Qunari shifted, adjusting their position on the bed, "Breakfast bell already rang twice. If we hurry, we can grab a bath before we head over."

Dorian gave a groan, "Can't we just borrow Trevelyan's private bath? I hate that public thing."

"You and Viv are the only two who complain about that."

"Because we're the only two with good tastes," Dorian pouted, finally doing his part to sit up, "Though I suspect Josephine and Leliana use it as well."

"It only fits one," Bull raised a brow, "I'll wash you're back. Come on."

His body ached as he got to his feet to stretch. The day would inevitably be one spent scrubbing the scent of burning out of his room, but for now, he indulged Bull's more domestic habits. They hadn't had the chance to really spend time in public with one another and no doubt spending time in the baths together would earn talk but it couldn't be any worse than what Dorian had already been dealt.

His routine was put horrendously out of order because of this, a fact mourned as Bull threw on his pants and slapped Dorian's behind to encourage him to get moving.

The bath was not lingered in any more than absolutely necessary. Bull was hungry, even if he didn't say so himself, his stomach was eager to make the complaint for him. They ran down to the dining hall to see what was left at the tail end of the breakfast rush. 

"No bacon," Bull grunted as he tried to hunt down something with meat in it, "No sausage. Not even baked beans."

"Hmm," He picked up a muffin which he halved so he could butter the inside, "Didn't you only manage to eat half of that _thing_ last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Bull brightened immediately, "Should still be there. Good thinking, Dorian."

"Is it? I'm pretty sure you can get sick from eating something if its been left out that long."

"Nah, it'll be fine. It was practically a big thing of jerk anyways. All dry."

"Just try to watch your breath after," He reminded with a slight scowl to his expression, "Ugh…. Why is the black tea here never strong enough?"

"Dunno, it's one of your guys' special- _teas_ , right?" He grinned, pleased with his little pun, "Don't expect Fereldan's to know the difference."

"That's Riviani actually, but all the same, their loss," Dorian rubbed is forehead, picking at various fruits to nibble on when bread began losing its appeal, "The meat here too. It's absolutely deplorable. There's no flavour to it."

"Really? I think it's pretty good," Bull shrugged, picking up take a bite out of.

"Of course _you_ do," His voice carried the exhaustion he felt in his soul, "You love meat. I miss the subtly refined kind where it melts on your tongue, cut off as nothing more than a sliver. An absolute rarity here. I'd rather just avoid it all together."

Bull reached across towards Dorian's face, who retreated from the touch, "You've got a crumb."

"Oh."

His heinously unkept moustache was already making him look like a wreck for the day. Bull did him a favour in plucking the crumb off and pressing a kiss to his forehead, "I'm gonna check in on the Chargers and see if that meat's still were I left it. You got any preference for who comes to help you with your room?"

"Cremisius is always good company."

"Damn right, he is," Bull grinned like a proud parent, "I'll send him your way. I'd come help myself but I'm pretty sure I'd just make a bigger mess, or distract you. Either way, I'll check in on you later."

"Right," Dorian's shoulders slackened as Bull took his leave, "See you later then."

A small slap to his bottom seemed to be Bull's way of getting a final word in before he made his way out with whatever food he deemed good enough to consume alongside his hunk of jerk. Dorian piled up a small plate so he wouldn't have to worry about coming back anytime soon while he cleaned up. His free hand was used to subtly rub out the reverberated sensation that lingered on his ass as he walked. He poked his head into Solas's area, hoping to spot the mage for his own personal agenda.

"Solas, I'm going to be in my room, so if Inquisitor Trevelyan comes by and needs me for anything from me could you tell him that's where I'll be?"

"Do you want me to shine his shoes too?" Solas quipped, not bothering to look up from his own work.

Dorian realized a moment too late the insinuation his words may have carried, "Oh--… No, I didn't mean…" He sighed, he could never win with this one, "I'll find Varric instead. Thank you, Solas."

Even though he hand run his hand up through his hair with the slightest bit of heat, it was still a sopping mess. He gave a disgruntled face as he delayed his inevitable day of cleaning to seek out the dwarf, who thankfully was not very hard to find.

"Building a boat out of letters I see," Dorian observed as he slowed by the desk, "Do you mind telling the Inquisitor that I'll be in my quarters for the day? If he should happen by that is."

"Sure thing, Sparkler," Varric looked up from his masterpiece, "And if you see Josephine, tell her to stop accepting all these interview inquiries. I'm not interested."

"Fair trade," Dorian smirked, "You have yourself a deal, should I see her."

"And should the Inquisitor happen by, I'll let him know. Take care of yourself, Sparkler."

"Will do," He bowed his head, taking the opportunity to excuse himself.

He didn't bother to see through which his routine at all. Everything needed to be cleaned or washed anyways, it was just a shame the window couldn't be opened. He settled for leaving his door open instead, borrowing supplies from the kitchen staff and dressing himself in what could be considered incredibly dull and less than Atlus tier attire. Which was understandable given that today he was doing the work of a servant for today, something he was sure would get tongues wagging once more, either as a change of opinion or more reason to hate him. If he'd learned anything by now, it was that people will always find a way to vilify should they desire such.

Water damaged books were left hanging from rope he strategically placed about his room while the rest remained in the hall.

Krem came by while Dorian was humming quietly to himself. He put his arm to good use by working out a particularly questionable looking stain. Blood most likely, one of his own carelessness when disrobing.

"Woah," Cremisius chuckled as he rounded the door, nearly stumbling over a stack of books, "I'd say Chief was wrong in assuming you needed any help. You've got this under lock and key."

Dorian sat back, drawing a hand across his forehead, "You could say that. I might beat out the bed though if you're willing to give me a hand with that. There's no way I'm slinging that down the stairs and back on my own."

"Full spring cleaning, huh?" Krem grinned, "Heard you burnt the curtain."

"Yes, well," Dorian sighed, gesturing to the pitiful looking fabric, "That much remains true. Which reminds me, I'll have to set up an order with Josephine."

Which meant he'd have to see good on his deal with Varric.

"Alright," Krem gave a nod, "Lets haul it down then. If you need help with anything else after that, you just let me know."

"Benefaris," Dorian thanked him, rising to his feet.

It was a very long day of cleaning, one that left Dorian thoroughly exhausted, though Cremisius's company as always was quite refreshing. They took turns venting their frustrations into the mattress as they beat it with a rattan cane, shouting obscenities and blasphemies in Tevene. A few of them made Dorian laugh himself to tears while Mother Giselle looked on in dismay. Such seemed to only make him laugh harder.

The most recent addition of advisor, Morrigan, became so curious as to what they were shouting about that she came over to inquire. Her Tevene was no where near fluent as any practice she had with such in conversation was relatively limited. On paper, she explained, it was an entirely different story. So they spoke slower, explained in simpler terms and eventually the Scornful Sorceress began beating his mattress as well.

It might have been beaten to the point that the shape might not hold as well but at least it was softer and cleaner and that's all that mattered to Dorian in the end. With that task completed, fewer remained. Simpler tasks, that required less muscle work and more walking. He removed both curtains and took a moment to do himself up more to the image he preferred to present himself with before heading out again.

First stop, Josephine.

He dumped the curtains on her desk, "I need a replacement."

Whatever work she had been doing was utterly disrupted by the mound of fabric, earning him at first a scowl then a look of appall, "What did you do? This was embroidered!"

"I am most aware of that," Dorian sighed, "But having a burnt curtain in my room is most unsightly, as is leaving it bare. If you could perhaps order some made in a nice shade of plum or burgundy, I'd be most grateful."

She sighed, pulling out a fresh piece of paper to write an order for him, "What was it you were doing to even catch it on fire in the first place?"

"Left my burner too close while I was making my coffee this morning," Dorian lied most efficiently, "Ruined all my plans. Decided to clean my room instead."

"Try to be more careful in the future then," She mumbled as she signed it off and slipped it into an envelope, "Was there anything else you needed or just new curtains?"

"Varric told me to give you his most formal request to decline any mail addressed to him concerning interviews."

"We've been over this, it would be good for him to simply give the public something. An interview could not only promote his works but also reflect well upon the Inquisition."

"That's not my place to argue," Dorian shrugged, "I am but a messenger, good game by the way. We should do that again sometime."

It got him a smile, "Agreed. Though perhaps you should bet a little more next time."

"Ha! And end up like Our Dear Commander? Perish the thought," He waved her off as he took his leave.

His laundry was already sent to be washed, so if it hadn't been finished by now he could simply grab any of the spares they kept around. Which he did, returning to find a most cross looking Trevelyan knocking at his door.

"Dorian, I was told you'd be here. Open up."

"I was up until a little while ago," Dorian announced as he approached, bedding, sheets and blankets bundled in his arms, "What is it I can do for you, my dear Inquisitor?"

The man spun around and stepped back, allowing Dorian access to his room. Such polite behaviour."Oh! Solas said… Well, you're here now. We'll be going into the Arbor Wilds soon. I'll be taking Cassandra, Solas and Cole with me so personally, you'll be stationed with Leliana or Cullen when we head out."

"This means I should pack, correct?"

"Yes, the troops be leaving in three days at dawn. The trip itself should take five days max if we make good time, then another five or six back assuming all goes well," He gave a small uplifting smile.

Optimism so infectious that Dorian couldn't help but give a smile in like.

"Leliana will be heading out a day ahead to meet up with the scouts Josephine sent for. Josephine has already left to Orlais and will be meeting with us at the camp,"He explained to the best of his ability, "If you wish to help the forward scouts, you're welcome to leave with Leliana. Other than that, I'm just going around giving everyone the updates."

"I'll leave you to that then. Thank you for passing the information on."

"No problem. If I don't see you before we head out, then you have my luck," He put his right hand on Dorian's shoulder.

"To be honest, Inquisitor, I'm not sure I want your luck," He joked.

Trevelyan smirked, "Fair enough. Just stay safe out there. I look forward to seeing you in one piece when we all get back."

"Likewise," Dorian pushed his door open, "Nothing worse than bits of Inquisitor. However would we close whatever rifts are left then?"

"A very good question. One that I'm going to not think about," He waved Dorian off over his shoulder, walking away assumably to tell whomever he had left on his list.

Bed made and room clean, Dorian began making a list of things he'd need to pack in the day ahead. He could get by without his luxuries, he'd managed before but a few pairs of underclothes seemed a wise idea.

Nights could be dull, most people carried a pack of cards for entertainment, Dorian carried a book. He was thinking an exception might be made for this trip however. He tapped the tip of his quill against the parchment, pondering whether to pursue the thought.

What had he to lose? Nothing really. He could certainly find any number of suitable players should he desired such, so he got to his feet once more a jogged towards the merchants quarters.

A quick an suitable purchase, one that left him most pleased even if it was far from the most elegant looking board on the market. It would serve its purpose and that was all that truly mattered presently.

"A chessboard?" Blackwall greeted him, "Didn't know you played."

"I've made a regular habit of it recently," He turned to the warrior, "Figured one might be good for the road."

"You travelling with Commander Cullen too?" He raised a brow.

"He'd have less uses for my talents," Dorian pondered, "But so long as things go smoothly, we should all be travelling back as one big caravan."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it," Blackwall folded his arms, "If we succeed here, if we defeat Corypheus, then that's it. We stop being a force against the end of the world, we become something else."

"A political entity?" Dorian asked, "That's a frightening thought."

"Not sure that sits well with me," Blackwall frowned, "But its a possibility... I suppose we won't really know until it happens. _If_ it happens."

He didn't want to think about the _if_ or _when_. Even the thought of Corypheus being destroyed, vanquished, gone, however appealing the day after may be, the unknown that lingered behind him was perhaps even more frightening.

Dorian did consider this place a home, but he wasn't foolish enough to be ignorant of how people saw him here. Even if he were to personally end Corypheus himself, it would not suddenly grant him the favour of those personally threatened by the Elder One. He wasn't the one to close the rifts, it would gain him no favour.

If he stayed, what would he do? The Venatori would no longer be a threat. If he were to continue his trend of _doing the right thing_ then the right thing would be to return home and make a difference there. There, where his name and influence actually meant something.

"The unknown," he mumbled under his breath, jostling the chess board under his arm, "Right then, main objective is just to stop him from getting to whatever he's after yes? We do that, it's a good pat on the back for everyone. Until the next big one at least. I suppose I should get this back with my things. Will you be at the tavern tonight?"

"Might be our last good drink in awhile," A subtle joke, either because they were going to die or because the ale tasted like piss. It was hard to figure out which.

"I'll see you there then," He started walking, turning back around as he did so, "Oh, and if you want a game, you should seek me out when we've a moment to breath after all this travel and assumed battle."

Rainier gave a nod, "Right, I might have to take you up on that."

"Do, I look forward to beating you," Dorian teased as he strolled away.


	9. Diced Cherries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence and gore.  
> i didn't get around to fully editing this one through just yet so apologize for any and all grammatical issues that may come up. my computer keeps wanting to correct lyrium to lyric which is incredibly obnoxious in its own way.

Three days of intense preparations and planning, one of which he didn't bother sleeping for at all. His mind kept running over different variables, unpredictable variables.

 _S_ upply casks where they could refill on potions would be needed incase of any emergencies on the field where they couldn't retreat and enough stocked on ones person in any dire situation. He did what he could in terms of the army's equipment already. Training he made sure to continue and refresh but not overdo before the trek or the battle.

The Venatori, demons and Red Templars were all foes they could potentially face and they had be prepared for anyone. The only one complication he could foresee was whether or not Corypheus would call on his Archdemon to defend. If it did, they'd be in trouble.

Leliana stopped by before she was about to set off, "Still up, I see. I couldn't sleep either."

"No matter how many times we go over it, it still feels as though we're missing something," He frowned, "Like that archdemon. What do we do then?"

" Trebuchets or ballistas would certainly help. That's why you've got one more day, yes?" Whatever happens, we're both quick thinkers. I'm sure we will manage something," She leaned on his desk, "We have a long trek before us."

A bottle of wine came into view, earning a chuckle from the Commander, "A drink before hitting the road, is that it?"

"I've had a few already but one in good company may be nice for a change," She offered.

"Alright," it seemed foolish to encourage the habit so early in the morning but it was rare that he ever indulged in the Spymaster's company like this.

Leliana filled it up, "I'm afraid I didn't think to bring any glasses."

"Bottoms up then?" He raised his mug in cheers.

"To smooth travels and stopping Corypheus."

He met her on that, a metal rim clinking against the glass of the bottle, he drank. There was something subtly sweet about the drink despite it being a relatively dry red wine. Cullen found himself enjoying it, silently taking Leliana's chug as challenge to down it all in one go.

He gasped for breath as he set the mug down, "--Whew. Any more and I might not be able to walk straight."

Leliana seemed tempted to keep going on the bottle, but set it down reluctantly, "The trick is to keep walking until it wears off."  
A hiccup escaped her as she covered her mouth, "Excuse me."  
"We're bound to get moving soon. I should return to see to it that we do." 

Cullen gave a nod, "Make sure you all get a bite in if you can."

"You're concern is most touching, Commander," She had a slight twinkle in her eye, "I will see you again at the camp."

"Yes, until then then," He gave a little nod.

An Leliana sauntered out. Fewer messages were received throughout the day as he organized the carriages, horses and banners to be carried out for the trek. Everything was packed by the end of the day and he slept, eager to rise early and have everyone set to travel.

Something he achieved with ease as the woke, pushing what little he remembered of his dream aside to climb out of bed and take one last bath before they started their trek out. He dressed, ready for war and made his way to the troops' resting quarters. The usual cymbal rung through the air as he struck it to designate it time for waking.

His voice rung out as the cymbal faded, "Templars! Ex-templars! And those of you who have offered your skills and your arms to the Inquisition! It is time to ready yourselves for the journey and the battle that lies ahead! This is your chance to aid us and all of Thedas and prove yourselves worthy to this cause! Rise up so you may claim this opportunity!"

Satisfied with his speech, he rung the cymbal once more before taking his leave. He smirked to himself as he heard groans coming from those closest to the source of the sound.

There were some who had already saddled up and appeared ready to get moving, others dragged their feet but once everyone assemble the march was set.

The first night was spent writing letters between Leliana and Josephine so he might get updates on the situation. Gaspard was apparently set to travel with Josephine and despite knowing they could not speak face to face, he felt they were all in agreement of one thing. 'Keep Gaspard from the front lines'.

Occasionally his writing was disrupted by being called to concerns of the troops. Foot aches and cramps would be tended for by those with the training for such. He wasn't about to kiss every bump and bruise obtained during their trek.

Concerns actually worthy of his time were those such as damaged wheels containing fragile goods or doing damage to other supplies. Questions on how one should properly face a demon, whether they were holding their shield correctly, or their swords. Things Cullen could actually do something about, he did up until he called curfew. He didn't expect everyone do sleep, but he did expect them to rest, keep their voices down and have the energy to continue tomorrow. Those assigned to keep on watch were expected to be on watch when they were called for it.

Despite his own yawning, he felt restless. There was a gnawing in his gut that he could quite get rid of.

The second day proceeded with relative ease until they took a brief break for lunch. Templars and ex-Templars with contrasting viewpoints began a viscous argument that nearly resulted in fists up until he broke it up personally, scolding those involved to work united for the cause at hand. Such petty differences could be discussed when the world wasn't threatened. Arguments of that nature hadn't been much of an issue at Skyhold as those with like minds tended to group themselves accordingly. On the road, grouped together without nearly as much space between them made it easier to overhear the conversations of others.

He cast it from his mind as he laid down that night, waking before dawn out of breath and breathing heavily.

His dream unremembered though the waking always felt the same.

The third day was smoother, the troops behaved and a lot of progress had been made. They might even wind up arriving a day earlier than expected. Leliana's scouts had secured a sight for them to set up base not far from their objective. So far it was in their holding and any opposition that wandered too close met a swift end from those prepared to keep its location a secret. Leliana voiced concerns in her letter, camps of Red Tempars were evidently ahead on the road which means their job was not going to be easy by any means. He'd have a better idea of what to anticipate once they actually arrived.

When they set up for the night, he took the time to write Leliana back while looking over the map. No more than two days, they were making good time and everyone seemed eager to get an edge in on Corypheus if they could. There was no reason they shouldn't be able to make there undetected if they took the trail Leliana had prepared for them.

"Excuse me, Commander" A voice crept in, drawing Cullen's attention away from the map, "I realize your likely very busy, prepping and planning for the day ahead, but I thought I might propose to steal just a moment of your time so you don't overwork yourself as I know you tend to."

Dorian stood, looking relatively out of place with all the armour clad soldiers.

"I…" He cleared his throat and rose to his feet, "You've been mixed in with the troops? How are you handling the trek?"

"Considering I ran from Redcliffe to Haven before on very short notice, I'd say this is nothing," He joked with an easy going smile, "I slept through the Nightingale's call, if that's what you're wondering however."

Dorian gestured for him to follow, so Cullen, perhaps with the slightest of reluctance, rounded the table so he could.

A small set of stools and a makeshift table, Dorian took a seat and gestured for Cullen to do the same. Once he did, a small wooden board was pulled out from under his seat and set out between them.

Top side checkered, Dorian pulled open a drawer on its side to reveal the pieces, "I thought it might be a pleasant surprise since its always your board we're borrowing to play. Black or white, Commander?"

"Black," he didn't hesitate to answer and Dorian began to lay out the board.

"Always black with you," Dorian mused to himself with a grin, "I'd like to flatter myself and think it's because you're being courteous but that's likely not the case, correct?"

His eyes lingered on Dorian's fingers as the traced the side of each black piece he laid down, "It's…" He cleared his throat, removing his gaze to meet Dorian's eyes, "Not the case, no."

"So," Dorian began laying out the white, grey eyes directed down, "If its not simply to give me the first move, is it to give you the advantage or I? If this were a dance, the one in white would be the lead, but this is not a dance. It's chess. A tactical game of evasion and capture, which actually sounds a bit like some dances I know now that I've said it out loud."

"Which dances are those?" Cullen asked in hopes that the first distraction his mind let towards would be diverted.

"I could show you," Dorian offered, "But I'm afraid I'm not very good. Lots of hopping and hip work, a lot more involved than those dances I'm sure you saw at the Winter Palace."  
A smirk grew on Dorian's face as he slid a piece forward, "I'd also probably had to lose my shirt if I were to make it any bit traditional and then throw on a bunch of jewelry."

Cullen drew his gaze back to the board so he could identify what move Dorian made without getting stuck on the mental visualization, "This is a traditional Tevinter dance?"

Dorian gave a nod, "The really impressive ones will go out of their way to breathe fire or cast spells to elaborate their movements. One dancer my father had entertain for a show would shoot lightening every time he put his foot down. Made everyone's hair in the room stand up quite literally. It was hilarious if not annoying. Everyone was getting shocks for weeks, myself included."

"You've been to a lot of parties then," Cullen moved a piece of his own and waited.

Dorian was quick to make his next move, "Most of them reluctantly. Tevineter's high society is incredibly cut throat I'm afraid. I would have made a terrible Magister if my father had his way."

Cullen nudged a piece forward, "I have a hard time imagining they'd be the type to dance."

"No, they don't. Not usually. Not unless everyone's incredible drunk," The mage explained while rocking a piece back and forth under his index finger as he pondered what to do, "Most cases, the entertainment is hired. Dance is the entertainment. Or fights. Magisters do adore their tournaments to the death but that's something else entirely. It's much safer to find a small bar, pub, tavern, what have you and indulge in dance there. Atlus like myself are far more friendly and less likely to strike your head off if you put the wrong foot first."

"That's good to know," Cullen's eyes remained fixed on the digit and its idle action. Dorian slid it two spots forward and brought his hand back to rest under his chin, a satisfied smile lingered near it. His thoughts were treading towards indecent even though Dorian habits were nothing knew. He had all the time in the world to observe them previously but this was the first time that he felt justifiably flustered by even the simplest things about him without immediately casting them aside.

He forced himself to return the move a jarring speed. It was still the beginning of the match, regardless of how poorly placed it may have been.

"You're not still thinking about tomorrow are you?" Dorian's voice held a note of concern, "Or whenever we're to reach Corypheus, even if its not us specifically."

"No, no, I'm just…." He paused wondering where he was going with the statement. He very well couldn't tell Dorian he was thinking about the night they had stolen the butterbile. He had already shut the case on that story, second thoughts were not an option and Dorian was taken. That was it. "….Thinking."

"Ever elusive, Commander," Dorian teased, "It makes you easier to win against."

"Does it?" That sort of banter, the challenge within it brought Cullen right back into the game, "Because if I recall correctly I was leading in victories up until our most recent tie."

A laugh escaped the Tevinter, "Something I intend to remedy immediately."

"By losing," Cullen couldn't help but feed into it, sporting a grin of his own.

"And the sass returns," Dorian cast his arms out, leaning back some degree, "I was beginning to think I had stolen it all somehow. Reassuring to know you have some insincerity left on your tongue."

"Is it insincere to announce my preordained victory?"

"When it's an outright lie, it is."

They traded turns, playing the game as it was intended. A silent concentration intended to keep future moves hidden and alternate approaches to any hitch in the initial plan. Having played with Dorian as much as he had now, there was a certain amount he could predict. Habits and moves that read familiar in response to his own.

Cullen came out victorious, posturing himself with pride as if to say 'I told you so' without ever actually saying it.

"I suppose it would be a concern to our troops of our dear Commander found himself outplayed in a game of chess," Dorian sighed, accepting his defeat.

"Try not to sound too bummed out," Cullen couldn't keep the smirk from his face, "You're efforts will be needed tomorrow as well."

"Most certainly. I'll just have to revel in last night's victory against Blackwall, I suppose," He sighed, "I've the hankering that he'll be wanting a rematch come tomorrow if we've the time for such."

"Perhaps some of my good fortune will rub off on you," Cullen offered.

Dorian gave an undignified snort, "Only if it's the sort of fortune that demand my small clothes remain on." He paused. "I take it back, you may rub your good fortune wherever you please."

Cullen's cheeks warmed up in an instant, reaching across the table to playfully swat Dorian with the back of his left hand for such vulgar comments. The action itself only seemed to encourage more laughter from the mage who leaned back to the point where he nearly fell off his stool.

He composed himself quickly after that, "My apologies, Commander. You simply are too easy to tease at times, but that does not put me in the right. You've met my request for a game, so as much as I'd like to maintain your company, I will not hold you from your duties."

"It's appreciated," Cullen rose to his feet while offering the reassuring the man, "May there enough time and comfort to play again on our way back."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

Cullen gave Dorian a slight bow of his head, excusing himself to return to where he had left his letter unfinished, adding to the bottom of the note, 'It appears as though you're missing one mage' before tying it up and sending it off with one of her many messenger birds.

He received a response in the later half of the following morning, 'Our Atlus has preferred company it seems'.

Cullen let out a snort, shaking his head. They'd be there soon. The messages travelled faster as they approached the rendezvous. He was hoping they would reach their destination that day but it took one more, earning him some time to do a full walk through the troops and back. Those considered apart of the Inquisitor's inner circle stationed themselves towards the back with The Bull's Chargers. Assumably they kept charge where Cullen himself could not be and likely had the opportunity to know his troops on an even more personal level than he did himself.

He gave them the relaxing group a nod as he started back towards the front. The bumps in the road seemed to clear out the closer they got. A promising side. He thumbed over the coin he often kept hidden in his boot, pondering the prospects of the day ahead. He should rest, but he took a shift to patrol and guard for the first half the night instead.

He ended up staying awake instead, not preferred but he made do in the past, he could do so again. The troops began their march again as the sun started up, casting a faint mist over the forest floor full of dull blues and greens. Their destination was reached with time to sort who was to go where and do what.

The Inquisitor was to arrive in a half days time having taken a separate route under advisements of the Witch of the Wilds. It gave them time to prepare any balista and reduce the numbers of those that might be nearing their camp. There was no time to be wasted. Leliana rallied a number of he scouts and Orlais' forces as Cullen did the same. The Inner Circle were to remain as their last lines of defence, a tactical advantage to anything else that may come their way.

The Inquisitor was to make his way forth soon, so Cullen did was he could to clear a path and keep it clear in front of the temple which contained Corypheus's assumable goal.

Appendages of red lyrium were struck against as he dealt blow after blow to break the make up of their armour. He got lost in the motions of it all, blocking strikes, aiding his allies and delivering his blade to his enemies. The Chant of Light was something he often repeated to himself as he fought, going through the verses, the symbolisms, the application. It kept him focused, guided his blade as much as he did. Old habits clung to him, but he was better than those habits now.

Not all their enemies were templars though, few were grey wardens, others were evidently elves, though none from a clan he was familiar with.

A hammer cleared the enemy in front of him, casting him against the earth only have the blow followed by second strike that was delivered down. No armour could protect one from a blow like that.

The Inquisitor gave him a nod, the present group they had been put up against vanquished. He carried forward towards the temple.

"The Inquisition will not yield!" He reminded those remaining by raising his sword, "We will fight and defend this spot until the Inquisitor returns!"

His voice drew more attention as another wave of Red Templars came out of the woods to target them. They'd just have hold out.

The archdemon signalled a change, at least a dozen more templars worked their way out of the woods when it landed inside the temple. They'd required back up soon even if faith benefited him and their troops.

He gave a whistle that rang through the air to be a signal to Leliana are her scouts to pass it down the line. They'd likely all have seen the dragon by now in any case, though it was hardly in range to be shot. A prayer offered in place of a curse, he drove his blade into Red Templar after Red Templar.

When those with him began to look ragged, he pushed back, keeping the others at bay. They were fortunate to save the templars they had, but it was apparent Corypheus had been gathering troops for his army from all over.

A particularly well fed looking templar, monstrous in every way, came hobbling out of the woodworks. Whatever elves were present protecting this forest had evidently done some damage attempting to stop it but were most unfortunately outmatched. Cullen knew there was no reason for them to seek a truce with invaders of their home, but he certainly hoped they would consider it with the opposition they were presently faced with.

"Hold your ground, Inquisition!" He reminded those who remained with him. He knocked one down with his shield and cut their throat, bringing the blade across in a clean swift motion as he moved to strike the next. He caught their sword hand on an upward motion, changed directions and brought it down. The next cut was diagonal across the clavicle.

A blow came down heavy against his shield. One he deflected on instinct but as it landed he realized it would have been better to avoid all together. The impact threatened to dislocate his shoulder, so he threw his weight back, talking a fall over further damage. A mallet of red lyrium trounced the ground, giving Cullen a moment to get back to his feet.

"Avoid the arm!" He directed his troops, doing his best to keep the templar's focus on him while the others made their strikes. It was a dangerous tactic on his behalf but he knew his own strengths and speed was one of them. The templar swung out, knocking one of his troops in the head. He prayed the man was only unconscious when he hit the ground.

The range of his sword was nothing compared to the might of that swing. Leliana's scouts might have an easier time taking the beast down. He could lead the behemoth there but in doing so he'd be leaving the entrance unguarded. If more of Corypheus's men got in, it could exacerbate whatever was already happening inside. He would remain posted, there had to be a way to attack from behind.

Another whistle, different from the one before. The Nightingale's call. He had any troops to send her, he would but they were dealing with their own problems now.

He gestured to two of his men, "Go! Whatever assistance they require, provide them with it. Return with several scouts if you can!"

"Captain!" The affirmed before doing their best to evade further battle damage. He had four of his own left standing and one down presumably unconscious.

The one are was smaller, weaker. He moved to strike it, hearing the thrum of red lyrium grow stronger as drew closer.

He found his anger, he struck the beast down by using his shield to propel his blade up. The monster screamed, met by the yells of the Inquisition's troops as the beast was toppled.

The Templars that had been upon them were vanquished, a victory met with a single round of applause.

"Most impressive, Knight-Commander Cullen. For a moment I thought you and your men might not make it."

Broadsword, circular swings, Cullen remembered Samson's favoured fighting style and that gave him an advantage even if the sword on his back had yet to be drawn.

"Corypheus would favour you amongst his men," Samson offered, "Its better than being tied to the Chantry and their lies."

"I saw what it did in Kirkwall," Cullen ground his teeth, "Whatever Corypheus hopes to gain here, will be lost to him this day."

"Not if the vessel gets there first," The sword was drawn, "Then we will have our new god and the world will be cleansed."

There was no point in talking sense into Samson when he was this far gone. What he became now was only the faintest remnants of who he had once been. He gestured for his troops to stand closer to the temple as well as bring their unconscious peer with them. Samson was his and he was going to end things now.

* * *

 

"That is the second whistle we've heard. Are you positive we're not to go out there and join them?" Dorian inquired as he looked out into the woods where the sounds of battle rang from.

"If they wanted us, we'd know," Blackwall folded his arms, "It'll sound different then the rest. More hollow, like a mallard."

"Well, I feel positively useless, just sitting here waiting!" The mage gestured his arm out to where the action is, "There out there killing who knows what, the bloody archdemon landed and I'd like to know what is actually going on!"

"Stay patient," Bull's voice was uncomfortably calm as he tended to his axe, shining it up with gentle love and care, "Our job is to protect the camp. Plenty of scouts patrolling but we could still be ambushed."

"Do you think anyone would think to scale the side of the cliff?" Vivienne proposed, "That would be most effective if they had the stamina and skill for such a task."

"As great as that would be for a plot twist, too unlikely," Varric kept Bianca on his lap, "Unless they were demons! Demons could probably do that. Not that I'd want them to. Terrifying thought, let's change the subject."

"East entrance!" A scout shouted.

"That sounds like an emergency!" Dorian hopped to his feet, "Last one there has to tell Solas he's an egg!"

"Boiled rotten!" Sera cheered, fast on his heels as they sprinted towards the east entrance of their relatively small camp.

"Yeah, not happening!" Varric complained as he hadn't even bothered to get up.

Dorian slid to a stop as both he and Sera slid to a stop before injured troops making their way back for aid.

"Venatori reinforcements, ser," One of the scouts groaned, she carried a dreadfully injured soldier while sporting a large gash on her forearm.

 Dorian gestured for the medics to attend to those in need, turning his attention back to Sera, "Think they could use some help, yes?"

"Definitely," She grinned.

"Right then," he waved back to the remainder of the Inner Circle, "We're going to stop the Venatori. Mallard call if you need us!"

"Do you even know what a Mallard sounds like?" Blackwall called back.

"He mocks my intelligence when I've beat him 5 to nothing," Dorian held back any desire to make a loud brash and insensitive comment, "Let's go, shall we?"

"I get there first, you have to tell Solas he's and egg!" She grinned and bolted off.

"That's not fair! You've got a head start!" He hesitated only a moment before sprinting after her. The venatori were gaining on the camp with alarming speed. They hadn't thought to set proper defences but there were corpses, he could use those to get them some time.

"Ew! That's nasty!" Sera complained, launching off one of her arrows straight into the eye socket of a Venatori Zealot, "Why you got to go and do that?"

"Because, in case you haven't noticed, we're out numbered," He declared freezing the next one that was set to charge at them, "And its my specialty."

"You're specialty is nasty!" She set a fire shot straight for the one he froze, shattering the victim into nothing but bits and pieces.

"It's helping!" He slammed down his staff and set up a wall of fire between pursuers and any retreating troops.

She threw down traps, "Yeah, well, do your  _help_ away from me."

"You've never had a problem with it before!"

"That's cause when we're fighting, its usually monsters and demons and all that weird stuff," She fired round after round of arrows off, "Not people. Still weird when you do it with the weird stuff, but also definitely not people."

"You might want to cover you're eyes then because I'm about to do it again," He took a moment to cast before bringing back another fallen Venatori agent.

"That's fucking nasty!" Sera exclaimed once more, "He's all glowy and see-through now! People ain't supposed to do that!"

"Focus on the Venatori that are getting ever closer to our door, Sera," Dorian half sang as he spun off fire from his staff, areas lighting up in bursts.

The group was brought down over half. Even with just the two of them and a handful of scouts, they managed to push back.

The mallard called and the Venatori began retreating.

Too much of a coincidence for Dorian to not pay any mind.

"We can't let them retreat!" He explained to Sera, urging for her to join him in going after them.

"Yeah, but that's the Mallard or whatever, right? They need us back there!" She stepped up to him, gesturing back to the camp with her bow.

"Go then! I'm not letting them get away!" He gestured to the fleeing Venatori.

"What if its the Archdemon-y-whatsit!?"

"Then I'll kill them and come back, assuming they don't lead me somewhere important!"

Sera made a sound of utter annoyance, "You'd better come back in one piece! Everyone'll be royally pissed if you don't!"

"I have every intention to return fully intact and maybe more," He assured her, starting to jog after the Venatori, "Go! Don't keep them waiting!"

"You'd better call Solas an egg to his face for this!"

"Only if I want to be certifiably dead," He muttered under his breath as he chased the remaining Venatori back to who knew where. They very well might split up, or challenge him further down the road. He had them on the run it was only fair that he use that to his advantage.

He cast a wall of flame, cutting off their exit path as one foolish archer stumbled too far and into the flame, erupting in a miserable scream as they tried to put out the fire that encased their body.

The other three turned and raised their weapons.

"Now, now, we're all from Tevinter, I presume," Dorian ushered for them to lower their weapons as he put his staff back, "If we all act like savages, we'll only end up hurt or dead and none of us want that. What I want to know is, where is your lieutenant and can you take me to him? You venatori are still looking for new recruits I assume. I know I put on an act and you've no reason to trust me but I am still very much capable of ending all of you here and now should I desire such."

"…Calpernia is in the temple," One of them gestured out into the forest.

The venatori next to him, hit him with the back of his head, "You moron! That is not what he's asking nor is it something he needs to know!"

"We will take you to him," The third responded in a grunt.

"Great," Dorian grinned, "It'll be a happy little get together."

"Get Dreilius up, there may still be some saving him yet," The third gestured towards the one writhing on the ground, "This Atlus might be of use to us."

It was strangely refreshing to be referred to properly but this was a dangerous game to play. By all odds, he could discover the Venatori camp and find himself killed on the spot. Either way, he was risking his neck both between the Venatori and the Inquisition. They could just as easily find out and consider him a double agent which would be bad. Very very bad.

He tread cautiously, the third member kept his weapon trained on Dorian as they proceeded back to their camp, hidden amongst the trees.

As they approached it became apparent that the Venatori were dealing with more than just the Inquisition's forces in the forest. Elvhen rogues were dealing blows to the Venatori in their own ways, taking one out after another until they themselves fell. It seemed a tragic sight though it became evident quite quickly, Dorian was considered on his own, as the four Venatori he travelled with leapt into action without him.

He could leave, but not before setting a few tents ablaze. He might as well hit while they were hurting. This did immediately draw attention back to him. A magister in full garb exited one of the tents with a look of rage upon his face and amongst all the chaos, Dorian shoved aside any sense of familiarity to flee the grounds. A rogue was knocked aside with his staff and he took to sprinting back to the Inquisition camp. Full sprint, anything in his way was set ablaze and the spirits of the dead were sent back to fight in his stead. He knew when he was drastically outnumbered and he was already fashionably late as it.

Wind knocked back the trees, fevered gusts that were not that of nature, drew Dorian's attention from what was in front of him to what was in the sky. The archdemon that had flown in was now departing, though not without one final parting gift it seemed.

A trebuchet that a few scouts were loading up to fire became a target.

"Get back!" He shouted to them, waving his arm and gesturing for those nearby to do the same. The trebuchet took the hit, splinters flying as it broke, burned, and fell.

Josephine had shouted for those present to do the same. Those nearest to the blast obtained the most injury, splinters, gashes and burns. Dorian found himself with only a few slivers, easily ignored in favour of freeing an injured scout from the fallen trebuchet.

"Get this one to the medics," Josephine requested as she approached, "Dorian, what are you doing? Everyone's already head out."

"I had a bit of business to look into. You won't have to worry about an attack from the rear again, I hope," He looked over the injured before drawing his gaze back to Josephine, "And you've got a scratch."

He reached out to thumb over the spot, "It's not much but that's pretty much the most I can do. Look after yourself, Lady Montilyet."

She pressed her to fingers to the spot, "Certainly. Stay safe, Dorian."

A nod was all he could think to offer before he broke back into a run, not quite a sprint, but he was certainly running. There were too many vines and roots that stood out, causing him to nearly trip as he jumped to avoid them, and puddles of water. When he caught up to his company, it seemed as though their enemies were either defeated, retreatingor giving up.

"Bout time you got back to us!" Sera drew back an arrow, aiming for one Warden who didn't seem capable of stopping, "Was it worth it?"

"No, not really," He looked at the fight and did his best to distinguish friend from foe. "They want us forward!" Bull called earning a cheer from the Chargers. It was easy to get grouped under Bull's command, which the Inner Circle did without their Inquisitor there to lead them. The group pushed forward, knocking down whatever happened to be blocking progress. They arrived in front of the Temple to witness Cullen striking down what appeared to be a red templar of distinguishable rank. The blade cut down across the neck and the foe appeared vanquished. Despite the cheers that came from the surrounding audience, Dorian felt himself unsettled by the way Cullen held himself those few seconds following the fight. A hatred framed his figure, a look Dorian had not yet seen on the man before now. 

It slid away as his own soldiers regrouped to look for his advice on their next move. 

"The Inner Circle will investigate the Temple for any sign of the Inquisitor," Cullen directed, "Whatever remains of Corypheus's forces here must be wiped out. That's our job. Send word to Leliana. Recover our injured troops and protect them from any threats to the camp, is that understood?"

The group gave a roar and split off to complete their separate tasks.


	10. Vanilla Pudding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been busy juggling a lot lately irl lately which hasn't given me a lot of time to focus & write on this fic. there's a lot of bad habits i've been developing in my writing that i've noticed over the progress of this fic. trying to rush out chapters has not helped that too much so i'll try to challenge and break some of those over the remainder. chapters updates might slow a bit as a result.  
> a good portion of this chapter was written back around chapter five, just waiting to find its place so that was exciting to rework and fit in  
> warnings include self loathing, suicidal ideation, some bdsm, bondage, sensation play towards the end of the chapter

The assault ended once the majority of Corypheus' forces were defeated, those remaining either aimed to retreat or be slain. No more templars or venatori made themselves known to strike once Corypheus himself was seen retreating. Instead, the Inner Circle returned from the temple with a group of elves in tow. The same elves that had forces attacking them in previous, laid down arms to discuss the prospects of a truce as well as the happenings within the Temple. Orders were issued, troops were to remain on sight until they received further word. Josephine handled any external issues and Leliana tracked down as much information as she could before allowing the Elvhen to take their leave. A small group of them voiced requests to join their cause, odd as it was, it would certainly change certain aspects about Skyhold as did the many other forces that joined them.

Cullen helped pack up a carriage for those who needed to travel immediately. Down time to recover was a commodity he wouldn't award himself until they were out on the road. There he'd have no option but to rest.

Three carriages. One of the injured who needed more than the facilities they could provide in camp and enough resting area for those that needed to make the trek back. Another for the Inquisition's key members, and the last for scouts and troops that would be needed back at Skyhold. Once they were set, they'd only rest if the horses themselves required it, otherwise they'd be switching off drivers until their arrival.

"Hey, Commander," Bull's voice greeted him from behind, pulling his attention away from the carriage he was packing up with the most basic of necessities, "Can I borrow you for a bit? I know you're busy right now but…"

He gestured for Cullen to follow him.

There wasn't much room for debate. He set the hefty bag down inside the carriage and moved to follow Bull.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as they walked, passed soldiers, passed scouts. The rest of the Inner Circle was discussing matters amongst themselves, but why Bull wasn't amongst them seemed odd.

"I'm fine," he answered as they continued to follow.

"Ben-hassrath, Commander," He reminded Cullen, "I know the difference between fine and a lot of other things."

Cullen frowned despite himself, earning a small smirk from the former Qunari spy.

The sun was already setting and they were to head out soon but he didn't doubt that the Iron Bull already knew this. He continued to follow him away from the camp.

"That man, Samson. He's been in a few of the reports, mostly yours," Bull started, "That man you killed out there was him, yes?"

Cullen gave a nod.

Fires and lights came from the camp were fading into the distance. They walked far enough out that Cullen could hardly see them anymore. Bull continued to lead them further out, the reason presently lost on the Commander. It could be dangerous for them out here on their own if any of Corypheus' remaining troops lingered in the area.

They were far enough out that even if they yelled, no one would likely come to their aid.

"We should get back," He gestured to the path they had ventured off from in confusion.

Bull gestured to a tree into a clearingwithin the woods., "Leave your sword there. I'm unarmed, you can confirm that for yourself if you need to, but for this, I need your sword down."

Cullen hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do in any assumed area of enemy territory was put down his sword. Bull remained unwavering, an order which he didn't seem to step down from. Cullen was left only to follow, so he worked the belt off and placed it nearby, leaning the sword upright against some trees so even if they were ambushed, he should be able to retrieve it in time.

"Good, now... In order for you to really get this out of your system, I need to know what you fear."

Cullen hesitated, "What?"

"Your fears, what keeps you up at night, that sort of shit."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable sharing that…"

"I'm tal-vashoth, Commander," There was a grunt, "There's no one getting information from me anymore except the Inquisition."

Cullen folded his hands and shifted his weight, "I…." He sighed, angry that he couldn't voice his fears at all, "I'm not sure I can phrase them."

"Alright," Bull folded his arms, "Then tell me who you are."

"Commander Cullen," he stated, certain in that much but confused why Bull was asking.

"No, _who_ are you? I'm not asking your name, I'm asking for all the bits that make you _you._ Describe Commander Cullen to me."

It was a strange exercise but he was willing to give it a shot. If he were to describe himself, "…Certain, upfront. No room for self doubt. Humble, when able," he chuckled at himself, embarrassed by all the exercise entailed but willing to give a little more, "Not always the most charismatic, probably works too much…"

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Is that enough for now?"

Bull took a breath in, "Certain but you use words like probably. No room for self doubt and yet, here you are, doubting yourself. You praise yourself because that's how you carry yourself forward. Don't let anyone see the fucked up stuff underneath, don't let them see the damage you've done to yourself, don't let them see the damage others have done to you."

The Qunari's gaze was piercing through him, a display of skills otherwise kept silent. It made Cullen's blood run cold.

"Do you know why I asked you to follow me out here?" Bull asked, staring Cullen down.

He wish he didn't but Bull had his own way of making it abundantly clear. This was for Cullen, this was like the wrestling from before but different, more intense, more personal. They left camp so no one else would ever have to know, so his secrets would remain safe. Cullen gave a nod, he would not reach for his sword.

"Good," Bull continued, "Now then, I want you to imagine me as everything you hate about yourself."

"Your uncertainty, your self doubt, the emotions you feel makes you weaker. That feeling you get when your cravings are bad, the thoughts you tell yourself are disgusting. I'm all of that."

Cullen swallowed, "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Whatever you want."

Cullen stayed stationed at a distance, wondering if he should even approach before doing so, in quick steps closer until he was standing right in front of the Iron Bull, but he wasn't the Iron Bull, not presently.  
He looked the Qunari up at down, trying his best to imagine what he wanted. What did he want?

 

He wanted to scream. 

It was something that had been eating at him for days but the timing was never right, the place and space never allowed him to. It was all wrong, it wasn't fit of a Commander but out here where no one could hear them, it was fine.

So he screamed. A gulp of air in before he let cry tear out of him. Words started tumbling out of him shortly after he road the roar out until he had nothing left in his lungs. Words he screamed at himself on the inside all the time followed the cry, taking off chunks like a pickaxe against a cliffside.

_Foolish, Scoundrel, Traitor, Murderer, Hypocrite._

_You sullied piece of shit, You perverted demon, You lecher!_

_You weren't wrong, but you were so wrong. You soiled the very earth with your spirit. You should have killed yourself when you killed them._

_You should have died too._

_You're no better than they were. You did nothing to stop it._

_The teachings can't save you from this._

_You can't even tell your own family you're alive._

_You're pathetic._

_You're a disgrace._

There was such venom on his tongue that it left a bitter taste. The weight of his own words didn't hit him until he looked up to see Bull staring back at him. He felt his words reflected back through the Qunari even as the man remained silent.

He hesitated, suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way he'd never expressed before. It was different than crying with his back to the door. This was something else enturely.

"What else you got?"

Cullen stared at the mercenary in surprise, unsure if he had anything else to offer.

"You hated that Samson guy, right? Enough to want him dead."

Cullen provided a hesitant nod.

"Why?"

"Because he disgraced everything a Templar is meant to be."

"And you haven't?"

Cullen could sense himself getting angry again but he knew the reason, "Of course I have. I left the order, I stopped taking lyrium, but that's not _everything_."

"I read the reports of what happened in Kirkwall. With Knight-Commander Meredith. You were the second in command and you didn't think what she was doing was disgraceful?"

Cullen swallowed hard, "That's why I left."

"But you didn't do anything to stop her. You didn't act."

"I agreed with her.. At the time."

"And you call yourself a templar," Bull spat off to the side.

Cullen's jaw clenched, "My stance has changed."

"But you still think you're better than he is, _that_ Samson. He wasn't even in the order when shit hit the fan."

"He--- He _left_. He disobeyed, he was removed from the order."

"So you obeyed and got to keep your place while others suffered."

"I am _not_ that man anymore!"

"Bullshit! You still carry those burdens. Those actions lead you to where you are today!"

"But that doesn't mean I'm still that man!!" His voice rose to a shout, "I'm not! I won't go back to that! I'm better than that! Those things I did were wrong and I've accepted that but there's nothing I can do now to fix that."

"Wrong," Bull flicked the armour over his chest, "You fix yourself by continuing to change. Recognize your mistakes, learn from them, make yourself over better than before. Samson's shit because he gave up. That's why you hate him so much. When you look at him, you see everything you could have become, not some man whose fallen too far and has nothing else to look forward to."  
"There is always ways to be _better_ , the hard part is motivating yourself to keep on that way."  
"Grab your sword, Commander. We're going back to camp."

"Wait," He grabbed Bull's arm as the man turned away. He didn't have a follow up, earning another look.

"I--… This is…" He exhaled, "I don't understand what I'm supposed to have learned from this outside of that last thing and even then I'm not sure I really _get it_."

"You've got plenty of time to digest it," Bull offered, canting his head towards Cullen.

His throat felt dry, "...We have a lot of time left on the road, I'm… I'm not certain I'll be capable of sleep with this."

"You get nightmares," Bull noted, stated, "Wouldn't this be a favour?"

He swallowed hard, "Making the Commander of the Inquisition so restless he can't sleep." His laugh felt hollow, "I suppose that's a favour to some extent."

Bull pat him on the back, "I've got you. Which one are you going to be travelling in? I'll sit with you."

The air shifted, easily becoming more comfortable and not nearly as stifling or on edge as it had been moments ago.

"I…. I'll show you," He collected his sword and tied the belt back around his waist, leading The Iron Bull back to camp.

They were loaded up just passed sundown. Leliana took the reigns of the head carriage while several of her most trustworthy scouts manned those that followed. Injured troops were aided in the second carriage with those with knowledge of health and healing. The third was packed with the Chargers amongst other troops they might need back at skyhold immediately. The one Temple Elf stowed away with them, no one voiced objections.

Cullen settled in the back of the first, filled with the other members of the Inner Circle sans Vivienne who had taken to lending her skills in the second. Cullen looked about the group as they all settled in for the trip ahead. Leliana assured them it would take no more than two days if they didn't stop, but Josephine made certain there would be breaks not only for the sake of the horses they steered, but for the sake of everyone's bladders.

"Who would like to play a game of cards?" Josephine inquired with a knowing smile.

Blackwall inched towards her from along the side opposite of Cullen, "I'll take you up on that."

Varric swayed as he got to his feet, "I think I'll join our Lady Nightingale out front. I get motion sick if I can't see what we're passing."

The group gave unanimous sound of acknowledgement and agreement as he crawled out to the front of the carriage. Josephine looked about the remaining group of four, "Anyone else?"

Cullen found himself shaking his head, too caught up in his thoughts. They had come so far and achieved so much but this was still step towards everything else they still had to do. He couldn't succumb to his own baggage now, so he closed his eyes in thoughts of prayer.

Samson would be at the Maker's side now, whatever part of him was deserving of that.

 _From these emerald waters doth life begin anew._  
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity.

An elbow nudged him.

"Not yet," Bull warned him.

Cullen hadn't realized how much he slouched over, he had practically collapsed into the corner of the carriage, more exhausted from the fighting than he thought. Withdrawal was also kicking in, without the adrenaline from the fight, he could hear the call of it in his head.

Red lyrium had a strange hum to it, but it resembled lyrium itself at times that it was enough to keep him from either despite the physical cravings that tugged under his skin.

He cringed setting himself back upright.

"Oh, Commander, you should rest if you're tired," Josephine gave him a look of concern from over her cards, "Sera, go fish."

"That's so not fair," the blond elf complained as she drew a card.

"No, no, it's fine," Cullen assured the fellow advisor, "I... I'm fine."

"I still have my chess board," Dorian offered.

It was an offer that appealed more than cards with Josephine. They spent the night playing up until some dozed off, round after round, sometimes switching off with Bull or Blackwall and at one point, even Leliana when Varric offered to take over the reigns for a bit.

Varric only returned to the back of the carriage when he was looking to sleep. It reminded Cullen of the days passed where close quarters and cots were shared with other templars. Everyone slept at scattered hours. Dorian read aloud from one of the books he had brought with him, passing it around so others might read a segment in whatever serious or ridiculous manner they might please.

Blackwall had the most soothing of reading voices, the group agreed as a whole.  
Varric piped up from the front, making it clear that he had been listening in the entire time, "Shit, if I knew you were that good, I'd have you read my books when publishing asks."

Laughter echoed around Cullen's ears as he himself smiled at the sentiment. He'd never seen Blackwall blush before, but Varric's compliment seemed to do the trick. Bashfully, he handed the book off though no one else could hold a candle to Blackwall's presentation. Dorian, on the other hand, certainly tried.

He'd read over two chapters when launched Sera into the crudest of stories.

"Maker, i'm not listening to this," Cullen uttered under his breath. The descriptions were so vivid.

"I mean, I took my time, ya? I'd never seen anything like this before though! I know these things can stretch but my whole fist!" She exclaimed despite his objections. Cullen planted his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as if to chase away the thought. Bull's chest rumbled beside him. It was a sound that was easier to focus on over the drowned out voice that belonged to Sera.

The conversation was lost to him. Even with the fragmented bits that filtered through, he couldn't. It was like he couldn't breathe.

He gasped, clambering out the front to join Varric and Leliana.

"--Sorry," he leaned over his knees trying to get over the sudden dizziness that had come over him, trying to get breath and blood back to their usual flow.

"Hey, don't worry about it, Curly," Varric moved to give him more room but not without putting a hand on his shoulder, "You alright?"

Cullen gave a few concise nods, "Water?"

Varric passed a canister over to him.

Cullen drank, even thought to pour it over his head for a moment but refrained in favour of not draining their resources.

He could still make out Sera's voice, but the topic had changed, "What's that about? ..Did I ever talk about the nug wrestling?"

 

He had no desire to return and sit in the conversation, even if it was leagues more tolerable. He was given the reigns instead, the road hitting territory even he could recognize without a map to guide him. Cullen took to steering the caravan back to their destination, giving Leliana a break for some time.

He kept on through the night. The air was relaxing in a way the other portion of the carriage was not. Cool and fleeting.

Varric was easy and preferable company for the trip back. He could talk about a dozen things and know which to steer away from without a word being uttered on the matter. The man was made of stories, spilling accounts of all things both humorous and tragic, large and small. Cullen's favorites were those where Varric described his interactions with children.  
The dwarf turned in sometime after the moon sat high in the sky above them and for awhile, Cullen carried them forward in silence.

Crickets off the side of the road chirped, around the turning of wheels over rocks and through dirt. Beneath the clip-clop of hooves and grunts of the horses that tirelessly pulled them forward.

The carriage usually got quite quiet around this time, everyone was either asleep or respecting the fact that others were.

Bull climbed into the open seat beside him, a weight pushing down on wood, warping it temporarily.

"…Hey," his voice was low, soft even.

Cullen glanced away from the road to look at him. Gaze ahead, fire flies speckled the distance.

"Hey."

There were chirps and chatter from birds Cullen knew not the names of, filling in the gaps between speech seperate from any crickets.

"When we get back to Skyhold… Come see me, alright?"

"In…" He gave Bull a questioning look, "Herald's Rest?"

"Yeah," Bull's gaze remained forward even still.

A silence settled between the amongst the many sounds that surrounded them. They took the night comfortably into the morning. Bull left only as the sun breached the horizon. They were nearly back now.

 

…

 

"I'll see to Skyhold's defences in the meantime," Cullen concluded as the lengthy session at the war table adjourned. Troops from the Wilds would have to be brought back once they were certain nothing more could be salvaged from the temple. It didn't stop him from seeing what they had available on hand however. Maybe they could set up trebuchets on the walls if Corypheus sought to attack them here. 

He certainly hoped that would never be the case but it never hurt to be prepared.

Cullen walked back towards the smithery to see what arms could be prepared and what repairs still needed to be made to Skyhold, all the while Bull's offer lingered in the back of his mind.

A bath.

Then he went go to Bull.

"Took you long enough," Bull greeted, getting to his feet, "They keep you in there long?"

"There was much to go over," Cullen explained, "Have you been briefed?"

"Only the little we got before," He shrugged, starting up the stairs. Cullen followed after him until they were alone in the room Cullen had walked in on him naked the one time.

"Demons, right?"

The question came as a jarring change of topic.

"Demons and mages. Kinloch Hold," Bull gave him a concerned look, "I knew about Kirkwall, but I didn't know about that. You've really seen some shit."  
He held up his hand. Cullen had never noticed the last two fingers missing from his left before.  
"Its for grounding," He explained, "I've seen some shit too, just handle it differently."

He lowered the hand so Cullen could see it better, Bull encouraged him to look the damage over.

"Right at the knuckle. Hurt like hell."  
"Look at me."

Cullen's eyes raised from the hand, he might be a Commander but he still had a soldier's training.

"When you are angry, frustrated, upset… Find me. I'll ground you," He explained as simply as he could, "I'll do what I couldn't the night I took you away from camp."

It set an image in Cullen's mind that he'd never taken time to consider before. This man could exhaust him in a way he sorely required and keep him steady, reaffirm his focus.  
The nature of it was secondary.  
Cullen gave an affirming nod.

Bull returned it with a smile, "Good. We'll talk about the rules when it comes up. Unless you need it now."

"No, I think I'm good at the moment," Cullen breathed out, "It's been a long day. I still have a lot I need to do."

"I'll leave you to that then." 

Three requisitions, an inquiry about lyrium usage, and several requests for transfers had piled up at his desk in his absence. Cullen had not missed the ever present paper work in the slightest. He remained tasked until late in the evening by writing responses to all he had received.

He was by all accounts exhausted having worked himself again well over twenty four hours. Sleep should be easy at this point but the offer ate at him. Whether Bull expected him there tonight or not, Cullen knew if he didn't go now, he likely never would.

He wanted to know the terms of their arrangement or _the rules_ as Bull had put it.

He collected himself, throwing together what little focus remained and started back to the Tavern.

He always felt so self conscious coming here.

"Good, you're here," Bull gave grin from over his ale. It appeared to be a quiet night much to Cullen's surprise. He was certain most would have taken their victory in the arbor wilds in stride but the air remained relatively somber about Herald's Rest.

Bull took back whatever remained, setting it aside so he could rise to his feet. A repeat of earlier in the day, Bull lead Cullen upstairs.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back," His conversation was light, open, nothing to infer much of anything. People could overhear but take nothing from it. A fact that provided equal unease and reassurance in the former templar.

He liked to think he knew what he was getting into, but in all honesty, his experience in such areas were relatively limited. He knew enough, but what he knew often haunted him when there was little to be done about it.

_Tender hands running over his bare chest._

_Soft lips pressed to his ears. Teeth. Tongue._

_Eyes that saw him as nothing but prey._

How many times had he tried and shoved away those who he invited?

He stood staring out at the same room as before. There was an axe embedded into the wood, something he hadn't noticed any other time he passed by the room. Bull moved about the room to latch the doors shut.

"So, the rules," Bull's voice was gentle, alarmingly so from the thoughts presently ringing in Cullen's head, "You can either say _Katoh_ or pick your own watchword. You say either, I'll stop."

"Watchword…. Meaning?"

"I go to far, you become uncomfortable, can't handle any more, anxious, whatever. It's a word that if said, it stops. Ends. That's it."  
"Look, you don't have to be interested in me for this to be mutually worthwhile," Bull explained, "You're constantly in charge of big decisions and people's lives. That's a lot of pressure. Here? I take some of that weight off. I get to be in charge and you get to work off some of that steam in a different way. No one has to know unless you want them to."

Cullen took a breath in, brows furrowing, "But Dorian and you are…"

"Together," Bull gave a nod, "But in a different way."

"What about Monogamy?" Cullen blurted out despite his better intentions.

"Say Katoh, and that's it. This never has to go anywhere," Bull stated with ease though his response did little to answer Cullen's question.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, fighting the inner conflict he felt spinning and dizzying him. He couldn't do this.

_Could he?_

Cullen opened his eyes to look Bull over.  _Large hands, hardened body, facial hair, scars._ It was everything so wrong that maybe it would be alright.

Maybe.

He swallowed and allowed himself to breathe out.

"What would you have me do?"

"Strip," There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in Bull's response, "Then kneel over the bed. You can leave your sword against the wall."

Cullen moved, back turned to Bull, reminding himself again and again that this would be fine.

_This would be fine._

He set his sword aside first, much like the other evening but instead of a tree, it was a stone wall. A sign of trust. Cullen worked off his layers next, folding them and treating them with the respect he was trained to hold for any uniform.

Even his small clothes were folded and set aside. Then he moved to the bed and knelt as he was told, hands folded over fabric, his head hovering above. His ass was very much exposed and reminding Cullen that this was very well the most vulnerable position he had ever allowed himself to enter willingly.

Bull's weight settled on the bed beside him, two fingers tracing his elbow up to his shoulder, then along his neck, tilting up his head.

"I'm going to use a leather belt," He stated firm in tone, "Are you going to be loud and if you are, is that alright?"

Cullen shook his head. His silence speaking more than words could.

"I'm going to start here," Bull placed two fingers to the back of Cullen's calf, "Then move up, to here, here, and here." The finger moved, above the knee, to the thigh and then a top Cullen's bare ass.

"Tensing can make it worse so if it hurts, breathe through it. We're going to take this slow for starters. If you like something," Bull grinned, "Let me know."

The first strike came down without much warning. The sound echoed within the room but the pain that should have matched the sound was alarmingly dull. Cullen raised his head more in surprise than any lingering sensation.

A second strike followed seconds later, this time above the back of his knee. The skin was softer there, less prone to injury and strain. He sucked in a breath an let it go as Bull suggested. The pain passed but the sensation lingered, leaving a warm burn that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Another strike, this time to the thigh. The pain was sharp and quick but satisfying. Cullen had never known a pain that could be satisfying, yet it was all too fleeting.

Bull's chest rumbled the same way it had when Sera was sharing her story, but the sound was soothing in a way Sera's story never would be.

"You liked that one," Bull's voice sat low in his chest, lower than Cullen could ever recall hearing it before, "I'll give you one more."

And the belt came across the spot a second time, reaffirming the splitting sensation of pain and replacing it with a creeping warmth that lingered. Cullen was more aware of the fact he gasped the second time around.

A final strike followed before he could really settle into the sensation from the last. There was no reason for such assault to be so reassuring but it did. It gave an outlet to the burning the so often lingered beyond touch and made it enjoyable. Cullen gave a groan as he leaned forward to rest his head against folded arms, "…Those last two weren't so bad."

Bull's laughter became more of a bark this time, jolly in the manner it lifted into the air, "Good. That's good. I thought those might be the right spots for you. Too much sitting and your leg get restless. The back might be alright, too but there's too much tension."

Fingers pressed into the small of Cullen's back causing him to tense and lift from where he had been relaxing.

"See? Like that. Too much stress there and you'd be a mess. You're better off receiving strikes down here," Bull pat his bottom with the leather lightly, fingers fleeting.

"And when you're ready, we'll work on that tension you've got built up in your neck. But for now, I need you to spread your legs."

Cullen took in a deep breath as he followed the orders Bull issued.

"How many strikes do you think you can take?"

Cullen paused to think about it, "Fifteen."

"I'll do twenty," Bull informed him while dipping the leather between his legs. Arousal hadn't been an issue so far as the pain had been comforting in manner entirely separate from such up until now. The touch was light against his scrotum, tracing down the inner parts of his thigh and up again before coming down hard and fast across the length of his ass at varying degrees.

Twenty lashes, quick and precise to cover the area mutually deemed 'pleasurable'. Cullen's voice caught in his throat, allowing only air to come and go with each strike. The pain reverberated and lingered longer than any singular strike could create. With as much as it ached, it left a strange craving in it's place. Questions swarmed Cullen's mind to fill the space left by each strike, silenced only when the same leather that left his skin heated slid along the inside of his thigh, testing for a reaction. The agreement was he was here to be exhausted and right now all Bull managed to do was work him up. He keened towards the touch, earning a strike that hurt a great deal more than any in previous. He could feel the skin already beginning to welt, thought what connection it held to the heat he felt building deep in his gut wasn't one he wanted to think about.

The opposite side was struck, earning a wince as he fought the growing contrast in sensations.

"Yeah, this isn't going to be enough," Bull decided aloud. Leather traced his inner thigh, idly nearing his groin before pulling away.

Cullen breathed out through his nose and kept his eyes shut, waiting for another strike, or another…. Something.

"Headboard." A simple direction that was followed easily as Cullen clambered towards the headboard.

"On your back."

He obeyed, rolling over and waiting for further instruction. Bull was still dressed, which made sense, Cullen hadn't heard him remove any of his clothes. Bull got up to retrieve several pieces of rope. First his right arm was tied back to the board, than his left. Laying on his back made him distinctly more aware of the sensations left by the leather. Cotton brushed against each sensitive strip, agitating the skin and reminding him in whispers. Leather tapped against his lower abdomen only to be dragged up towards his chin. Bull was studying him. The leather dropped back down and pressed against his nipple, rubbing up, over and against it. The strap crossed his chest to prod the other.

Cullen sucked in his breath as the belt was brought back down towards his groin, tracing over the head of his cock slowly. He was visibly hard now and there was no ignoring it, not when it was so clearly the present focus. Leather traced it down back to the welts between his thighs.

Bull held up two fingers in Cullen's line of sight, puling his attention away from everything else that was happening below.

"I'm going to drive you wild with just these."

The prospect was a challenge, one Cullen could not combat in any way without ending all of this. If he didn't enjoy it, then he could say that word, 'Katoh' and it would be done.

He tried against the ropes shifting to sit up, skin reminding him that he was better off remaining where he was. Bull left the leather at his hip as he got up to fetch something else, a small bottle. He took a seat near Cullen's feet so he might clamber more towards the centre of the bed. Positioned between Cullen's legs, he opened the bottle, "How you doing, Commander?"

"This is…" He paused, unsure how to describe it, "Different."

The comment earned a chuckle, "Yeah, well, most times it is. But how are you doing? Thinking I might need to take it up a notch with you. This is pretty vanilla."

Bull didn't look at him like the demons did. There was a clarity, a conscious, a respect.

Cullen swallowed as he watched Bull work the ingredient previously resting within the bottle between his fingers, "I'm alright. I've never…. Nothing like this."

A laugh rolled out of Bull, warm, low. Cullen felt his dick twitch at the sound though really what connection there was between the two was lost to the former templar presently.

"Yeah, most probably haven't," He stroked along Cullen's length, tracing down his balls to the tender area below. He pulled away to add more of that stuff to his fingers. It was almost like a salve, but Cullen had no idea what it was made of. Clear, almost water like but too thick to actually be such. The second amount was worked again between Bull's fingers before it contacted his skin, pressing lightly at the small opening Cullen never bothered to think as such before now. Curiosity had him more than alarm, he was relaxed so despite the size of Bull's digit pressing in and massaging him.

Strange, but not unpleasant. Cullen remained still as Bull worked the spot over until there was enough give that the second could enter.

"Not bad, Commander," Bull encouraged. The bottle was set aside and the leather belt was picked back up. The fingers were pushing out inside him, widening him though for what, Cullen wasn't sure. Bull was still dressed. The belt came down against his outer thigh, causing him to tense around Bull's fingers, pushing them deeper inside.

He let out a groan as it pressed against something unfamiliar, sparking a pleasurable sensation. Cullen's head rolled back, another laugh earned.

"Now we're getting somewhere."

Bull brushed over the spot with his fingertips, teasing, retreating to stretch him further before returning to keep Cullen on edge. Each time Cullen tried to chase the sensation he was met with a strike, lower on the front of his thigh, at his ankle, never the same spot twice. He didn't touch Cullen outside of the two fingers that remained inside him, delicately keeping him on edge as sweat began coating the Commander's brow and body.

He couldn't keep his eyes open between the tension and pleasure that rushed over him in carefully timed intervals. He struggled against the ropes but there was no release to be found in his struggle, nor any other physical release. He'd never felt so flush or full in his life, nor ever on full display with such for anyone else. Thoughts, concerns, questions he might have had on it were so thoroughly pushed away as Bull kept his mind from wandering by reminding him of the physical.

_It felt good._

_This felt good._

_This felt so good._

He felt so close to his release so many times but each time he felt as if he needed just a little bit more to get there, Bull pulled back. If Cullen tried to move to help himself get to that point, Bull would pull him back down, keeping him from it, keeping him on the wave to be tossed about.

"Please," his muttered, begged. His head was spinning and he could only focus on this physical need that was suddenly so exhausting but still so prevalent, "Please, I just need-…"

He could hardly focus on Bull's figure at the end of the bed, still clothed, still only working him over with just two fingers and a leather belt, Cullen tried at the ropes weakly.

Leather traced inside his thighs, fingers pushed deeper and Cullen came. Whatever remaining thought emptied by the heat that pushed from his gut to pool on his stomach. His body went slack and sleep was too tempting a prospect for him to ignore.

 

…

 

"Though all before me is shadow," Cullen recited before Andraste's statue, "Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall no be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

"A prayer for you?" Trevelyan inquired upon walking through the open door from the gardens.

Cullen lowered his head, coming out of the prayer to focus on the question, "For those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose."

Trevelyan was a religious man, he made the fact quite well known from the very beginning, "I'm glad you haven't lost your faith."

"I've questioned it at times, but I have found comfort in faith when life offered little," His mind moved to business, to the battle ahead they told a bold step closer to. The prayer was for that after all, for everyone lost to get to where they were and for those he hoped not to lose on the path that remained, "Corypheus will retaliate. It's only a matter of time."

He rose to his feet, "We must draw strength wherever we can."

Trevelyan smiled, stepping closer, "For moments like this, perhaps?"

"There are fewer of those lately," Though Cullen hoped there would soon be more. Perhaps once Corypheus was gone, then surely they'd have the opportunity to indulge in moments like this a little more often.

Trevelyan stepped forward to look over the statue, a look of calm on his face. The moment quietened, a shared air expressed.

Neither wanted to lose anyone else.

Cullen's eyes returned to the statue of Andraste, feeling her blessing as if it was passed down onto them both. There was an itch inside to reach out, to at the very least offer some reassurance to the other man with hopes to see him on the other side of all this.

Trevelyan shifted his gaze away from the statue after a moment, towards Cullen. A hand proposed, Cullen reached out to accept. He was pulled into a hug, an embrace, arm coming around to pat him on the back.

"You've been a good friend," Trevelyan spoke softly, "I'm a better man for having known you."

Cullen couldn't help but note the distinct use of past tense, "We'll still be friends moving forward, I hope."

Trevelyan laughed, holding him tighter, "Yes. That… You're right. Thank you for everything, Cullen."

He couldn't help but feel as if he was the one who owed the thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> around chapter 8 i started seriously pondering whether or not i wanted to include bull/cullen in this fic bc i really do love their dynamic and the more i read from others surrounding the pairing the more i find they're relationship to be incredibly beneficial for one another. there's a lot of subtle similarities and traumas that i feel they could help each other worth through so that's sort of what i'm aiming for. bdsm is not something i've never tried to write before but hopefully this was okay.  
> theres a lot of notes i have stored off to the side for what i plan to write but certain details are still being worked though so i have no idea how this will all wrap up. this was initially spurred by just generally being upset with cullen's romance, though there's plenty more i hope to do with that topic one day (like overcoming his prejudices and falling in love with someone who isn't who he might consider typically beautiful). a future project amongst future projects perhaps. thank you everyone for reading, leaving kudos and comments and the like! its really nice hearing from you all.


	11. Prosciutto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for blood magic and mentions trauma/abuse on top of the usual

Dorian sat with his arms folded while giving Bull an incredulous look of disapproval.

"I can't believe you."

"I gave you fair warning," Bull didn't try to argue, his tone was calm in contrast to Dorian's, "He was bound to get curious eventually."

"He's--Nevermind. Clearly it doesn't matter."

"You're upset."

"Of course, I'm upset!" Dorian hissed, "You -!! Without even trying!"

The Qunari let out a bellowing laugh, "There was more effort in it than you saw but that's not important. When you and the Commander go for your usual game of chess, watch his hands. Watch where he watches, then tell me what you see."

"It sounds like you want me to go spying on him," Dorian grumbled.

"Simple observations," He cupped Dorian's face, "Trevelyan come speak to you yet?" 

"…No," He sighed, "I've been thinking a lot lately though. About what we heard, what we saw… I've been thinking more and more recently that I should return to Tevinter, perhaps before this is all over."  
"When I followed those Venatori to their camp, there was a man, a magister. He was wearing the same robes as Alexius and for a moment I could have sworn it was him."  
Dorian took a breath, "It wasn't, but I almost believed it was. Fate can be cruel that way, but he chose this path. I can't imagine what it would be like if I had to face him in knowing only one of us would walk away alive. It's been bothering me ever since."  
"...Watching Cullen strike down that man, it felt familiar. If things had been different, that might be me," He frowned, "As much of a thrill as it gives me to murder those who threaten us wandering country side, when its personal… It takes a bit more out of a person."  
"…Do you think he'll be alright?"

"Kadan," Bull pressed his lips to the bridge of Dorian's nose, "That's for him to decide."

Dorian wrapped his arms around Bull, breathing in and finding comfort in a scent he once thought of as repulsive. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him in place. There was a security to be found here.

 ...

He took to reading one of Varric's books that afternoon, _The Tale of The Champion_. A quiet favourite, regardless of how much was truth, gross elaboration and fully fiction. For the brief encounter Dorian had with the man of the tale himself was enough to clarify that he was indeed quite a looker, even if he was accounted for.

Trevelyan came by when he was about half way through the book, the discussion thorough and ultimately hinging on a neutral if supportive grounds. He'd stay for now, at least long enough to see things through. He couldn't squander this opportunity to give Tevinter a historically good name for once.

"Dorian, dear," Vivienne's voice crept up several minutes post Trevelyan's departure, "If I may have a moment of your time."

Between tasks and formulating his own plan of action, indulging Vivienne in whatever she had come away from her own work to accomplish would likely be more productive than turning her away.

"Certainly," He lowered his head politely.

She gestured for him to follow, leading him out of the towertowards her usual outlook, "I heard from Josephine that you're curtains burnt up. I made an inquiry quite recently in fact concerning the decor around here. Lavish wouldn't you agree? Our darling Inquisitor has suitable tastes, but a touch too favourable of the Free Marches. The edges are beginning to look a touch worn..."

He hadn't asked and he wasn't about to, instead he just waited for her to reveal where she was going with all of this.

"Unfortunately for me, changing the decor about here is no easy task. It will take some time. Luckily for you however, velvet is not so hard to come by if you know the right people and are willing to pay a proper price. With a situation such as your own, it was easily remedied."

She picked up a plum fabric, trimmed with gold towards the bottoms with designs stitched in throughout.

She was about to hand it off before lifting it just out of Dorian's grasp, " _Do_ try to take care of them, darling. These were finely crafted and if anyone here is to recognize their worth, I hope it would be you."

"Is this a peace offering, Vivienne?" He smirked loosely.

She scoffed at him, "Please, I have guests arriving in a few days time, darling. I want everything looking its best, however minuscule the detail."

"Then I thank you," He bowed his head, "And I appreciate this. Thank you, Vivienne."

"Please do address me by my full title next we speak, Dorian dear. I wouldn't want my reputation stained with trivialities," she gestured for him to go and Dorian didn't hesitate on the opportunity. It was easier to get to his room from Vivienne's balcony in any case, fewer stairs to climb, fewer doors to open.

He hung the elaborate velvet curtain across his window, so heavy that it blocked every ounce of light that might happen through. Too dark, he decided, tying it open so he could savour what precious little daylight wandered through.

The remainder of day was spent speaking with the few Sentinels scattered throughout Skyhold. The one Dorian spoke with personally had just as many questions about the world they were now active in as he had about their history, their slumber and the temple of Mythal. The Sentinel was no so eager to share their histories but in time relaxed enough to indulge Dorian in what he knew. Loriaes, Dorian discovered eventually, was the Elvhen's name.

"There was an…. Elvhen who ventured into the temple with your Inquisitor," The Sentinel addressed while Dorian scribbled a plethora of notes, "Why not discuss this with them?"

"Solas? I'm afraid of what he might say, honestly. We are not always on the best of terms," He tapped his quill to the page, doing his best to digest and process all the information he had obtained.

Loriaes straightened his back against the wooden chair, "Shemlen."

"We are," Dorian agreed with a sigh, "Have you spoken with him?"

The Sentinel gave a nod, " _He_ wished my aid with many things, but respected my decline when I provided him with such."

"I may come to you in the future with more questions, if that is alright?"

He received a nod in response.

"Thank you for all of this. Its much to wrap my head around but I appreciate it immensely," He voiced his gratitude to the assumably older elf whose words provided question of every history Dorian thought he might have known. Insightful, exciting and required for more research.  
If it checked out, then Tevinter really could be knocked down a peg. An exciting notion.

He wished the other well as he saw them off, feeling as if he'd done enough digging for one day to warrant venturing to the tavern for the remainder of the evening.

Bull wasn't present.

Dorian wandered through to sit down next to Cremisius , "Hey."

"Hey," Krem's greeting was relaxed, shifting his seat only to be slightly more accommodating to his guest.

"Bull get a stomach ache?" Dorian questioned the empty seat.

"Nah," Krem shook his head, "Chief went out with the Boss awhile ago. Something about dragon baiting, logging stands and new recruits. I suspect they're heading out to the Western Approach or at least thereabouts."

"That was fast," Dorian leaned against the nearest table that happened to be sprinkled with nut casings, "Feels like we only just got back. To think that this might all be over so soon is…"

"Frightening?" Krem gave a sympathetic smirk, "It's not really the end though. We take out the bad guy and its onto a new task. Whether the Inquisition decides to keep us employed or not is something else entirely though. I suspect they will though. Trevelyan is an interesting one."

"He most certainly is," Dorian agreed, "Even now, I'm still not entirely certain what to make of him, Andraste's Herald."

The both of them sat in a silence for awhile. Dorian's gaze wandered across the tavern to see Blackwall chatting up the bartender.

"What about you? What's your plans when this is all done with?" Krem asked suddenly, "Will you go back to Tevinter?" 

"That's… Sort of becoming more of the plan," Dorian sighed, feeling the need to get a drink of his own, "Witnessing all of this, making a difference, I feel like I ought to do more. Our homeland has its flaws, if I had more concrete evidences then I might be able to knock it down a peg."  
"So yes, I suppose I will be going back once Corypheus is dealt with."

He looked to Krem who was staring down his drink sentimentally.  
"I told you about my father, right? Sold himself into slavery and all that so his family could have a little bit more of a fighting chance?"

Dorian gave a slow nod.

"The people on top, Magisters, noble elite, they'll never get it but that's not to say its not worth trying," Krem took a sip, "I'm sure there'd be plenty of people willing to support you. Heart's in the right place and you've certainly taken a step down from the prim and proper prick you were when you got here."  
Krem was grinning now as he looked up at Dorian, "You've got my support, in any case. Just try not to let that ego of yours inflate too much over it."

A laugh escaped Dorian, "I'll have you know, my inflated ego makes a grand weapon against the less attractive nobles of Tevinter. There's no room for anything else, they all succumb to my beauty and grace and endless charisma by-"

"By collapsing on the floor and crawling for the doors," Krem teased.

"Its most satisfying," Dorian assured Krem, "You should come so you can witness first hand."

Krem let out a hearty laugh, "Oh maker, that'd be something. Not sure the Chief would appreciate his second running off with his 'Vint lover though."

"What a scandal that would cause."

"What's the deal with the two of you anyways? Is it just…. Sexual?" Krem finished his drink, "You don't have to tell me, it's not really any of my business."

"You're worried about him, that's fair," Dorian argued Krem's point, "To be honest, I'm not really sure what this is or what we are. It edges on romantic but then…"

"Falls a little short?" Krem offered to finish the statement, "Qun doesn't do romance the way I understand it, but the Chief? He's romantic in his own way."

"In the ' _I'll eat you like a slab of meat_ ' sort of way?"

"You know about him and Trevelyan, yeah?" Krem leaned forward, putting his weight on his knees, "I heard he ended it, Trevelyan did I mean. Chief was in here drinking early that morning and late into the night. Somewhere 'round noon that day, Trevelyan stopped by and handed something off to him, apologized, then left."  
Krem paused, his eyes moving back and forth in thought, "Whatever it was, it meant more than just the casual stuff. Bull does a good job covering up with all that spy training and Qun bullshit but when you travel and live with 'em long enough, you start to notice the little differences."  
"...I think a part of him really saw a future with Trevelyan, he's just not always the best at expressing that either," Krem frowned, "Not sure if he feels that way about you, but you might want to talk to that big idiot before you take your leave, just in case."

"A future," Dorian repeated slowly, "I think I'll need a drink before we dive into that one any futher. How about you?"

"Mm," Krem gave a nod, handing off his flagon, "Might as well."

 A fresh filled drink was passed off to Krem when Dorian returned to his seat. The ale was just as bad as it always seemed to be, but that never seemed reason enough for either of them to stop drinking.

"So how are things with you and your pursuit of our esteemed bard?" Dorian inquired lightly.

Krem gave a grumbled as he started back into his drink, "Tried talking to her a few times, found out from Sera that she's definitely fond of _feminine_ company so… I'm not sure. Romance never has been my strong suit, even with Chief rocking that harbour-port thing. ..Hooked up with Stitches a few times here and there but that's never been anything serious."

"You're afraid," Dorian spoke with astonishment. He'd never taken Krem for the sort that would shy on such a front.

There was a nervousness in the air of the other, "I mean, yeah, I guess. A little."  
"It's just… I know despite my forwardness and proclamations and all that, people sometimes are going to make assumptions and generalizations. The Chargers? Not so much. We've all got our own shit and making a big deal out of it means you probably won't last in our company long. Other people though?" He shrugged, "It's harder to know. …So yeah, I'm a little afraid."

"Has there been anyone else you've…?" Dorian tried to put it delicately, earning a laugh.

"Interested?" Krem joked, "Maybe. For awhile, that Seeker of Truth was watching us across the training grounds in Haven. She's got a mean swing and a good form. The chief spent a lot of time getting me to watch her and the Commander so I could pick up some skills. Different intentions though. I have a feeling the Seeker was uncertain of our presence, even as just a mercenary group."

"Did you two ever speak?"

"Only a few times. We joined training on rare occasions, once she came by asking for someone to practice with. I guessed she didn't want to discourage any of the troops so I accepted. She kicked my ass and that was that."

"You know, I've never seen Cassandra flirt first hand, but I wouldn't put it past her to try something like that," Dorian mused.

"Try something like, _I've got a shiny stick and you've got a shiny stick so lets beat the crap out of each other_ _and see who comes out on top_?" Krem chuckled, "Romantic."

"Not the most tact, but truth is she is one of the most romantic enthusiasts I've ever known," Dorian scoffed, "Even if it comes in the form of terribly written fiction. I'm sure she'd melt over a trail of petals or poetry recited by moonlight. I doubt she'd every pursue such action herself, but if one wanted to woo her, I imagine that would be how."

"Think any horse I had in that race got matched and passed by now," Krem leaned back, "Not that I was ever even aware I had a horse in it if I did. All speculation, right?"

"Shame that," Dorian sighed wistfully, "You might have been capable of providing that Seeker with some truths."

Krem let out a short strong laugh, "Yeah! And she can show me how to practice for twelve hours without any breaks!"

Krem did eventually get up the nerve to get up and speak to the bard, inviting her away from the center of the tavern to treat her to drinks and a conversation, one on one. Dorian wished him all the best with that, knowing full well that his company beyond that point would be more hindering than helpful. All he could do now was take leave and hope to hear of good things come morning.

A purchase of wine and glasses was made before Dorian took his leave of the tavern, not yet ready to retire for the evening nor looking to extend his presence with other company.  
His options outside of that were decidedly limited. Drink alone in the garden and hope company would stumble by, _or_ seek out more preferred and decidedly not Tavern lingerings to accompany. (His options were not honestly limited to just those but they were the options that held most appeal.) He decided on the latter, making his way up and along the wall only to knock before entering.

It didn't seem to deter Cullen from his own activities. A knife struck the training dummy to Dorian's right.

"Venting?" He inquired, strolling passed to set the glasses down on Cullen's desk.

"Trying," Cullen's face was stern and stressed. Brows furrowed as if there was something knotted underneath.  
He moved to the straw figure, pulling each each knife previously thrown with vigour and precision, "Finished all my paper work, settled three arguments today and I still feel restless."

He took position at the same distance he held when Dorian came in, just shy of his chair which Dorian happily clambered into seeing as it was presently unoccupied. Cullen threw each blade into the figure, one after another with enough force that the wood beneath the straw padding provided a solid 'thunk'.

"Samson took everything from those templars. He corrupted their souls, twisted them into everything they meant to stand against." His held an anger that dropped, barely becoming a whisper as the last blade pierced what was the equivalent of a human forehead, "Everything they would have hated…"

"And now he's dead, assuming this was the man is the same as the one you ended before the Temple the other day," Dorian put a hand to his chin. He was a little drunk already, but Cullen didn't need to know that.

"Yes," Cullen heaved out a sigh so heavy, his shoulders drooped, "I served with Samson in Kirkwall. He was cast from the order for delivering messages between a mage and their sweetheart."  
Cullen scoffed at the idea, shoulders lifting only slightly. He looked defeated without a face to focus on, "Maddox -- the mage who Samson had been doing these favours for, was made tranquil for 'corrupting the moral integrity of a templar'."

"I read the Champion of Kirkwall several times alright, but for everything Varric chose to include, there were only the briefest mentions of what went on in the circle," Dorian moved to pour out two glasses of wine with a frown, "Did you tell I visited Kirkwall once?"

"You hadn't," Cullen turned around, taking up a glass of wine as it was offered.

"It's a bit of a shithole if I'm being completely honest," Dorian quipped before taking a sip.

Cullen laughed, "You can say that again."

"...It's a shithole," Dorian repeated with a small smile, "But most places with their glaring flaws have spots of charm all the same."

"I have far and few fond memories of that place," Cullen confessed, leaning against his desk which caused it to rock marginally under his weight.

Such a slight imperfection caused Dorian's smile to broaden, "Tell me about your favourite place."

Red wine touched thin lips a moment prior to his request. A look of shy bewilderment cast his way went the glass lowered away, "My favourite… Maker."  
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, "My hometown maybe. There was a lake not far from where I lived, I would frequent it regularly."

"A lake," Dorian closed his eyes to linger on the thought.

"I come from a very small town. Honnleath," Cullen elaborated, "…Do you have a favourite?"

A hum buzzed in Dorian's throat as he thought, "I did always enjoy Alexius' study. It was dark, but something about the lighting was always so inviting even if we worked well passed dusk and dawn some days. It was warm, but the room itself was always cool."  
"Then there's the garden. Not Skyhold's, but after one of many soirees, I wandered off and found myself in a garden. It was… humble. Inviting. There was a stone bench beside a pond filled with colourful fish. Flowers, a stone path, incredible foliage all around. It was like I had walked from a nightmare into some kind of dreamland," He opened his eyes, "It was nothing like the fade itself. It was so real and full of life and…" The words fell away from his mouth, reaching for his wine to finish off the glass and pour himself another.  
"A dream that ended too soon. I'm afraid I haven't been back since."

"Did something happen there?" Cullen wore concern on his face.

He simply shook his head in response, "There was a lack of happening or too much. In that garden though, it was peaceful and what happened was simply conversation, good company and my own damned foolishness."

"...Foolishness?"

A question that spurred too much thought and not enough tact. Dorian downed his second glass without hesitation, taking it back in gulps as the alcohol swelled his tongue and warmed his belly.

He set the glass down and leaned back in Cullen's chair, "Foolishness."

He wiped the corners of his mouth to ensure he wasn't entirely unsightly in his drunken display, "The sort of foolishness that could be equivocated to attraction, I suppose. A yearning to grow old with someone who sees you for you, if only you'd thought to ask."

Cullen remained silent and Dorian could hardly fault him, it wasn't as if he'd said anything that warranted a response.  
So he carried on, pouring himself another glass to make up for the one he had just finished, realizing that in doing so, he left less than a glass remaining for Cullen.

"I should have brought more," He mumbled aloud to himself, handing the bottle off.

"There was someone you had eyes for in Tevinter?" Cullen prompted, bringing the topic right back up as if Dorian had cast necromancy on the statement itself.

He frowned, "Yes. One, that while not presently married, wasn't someone I could find the words to express my attraction to."  
"He was a bastard in the truer sense of the word, born of a servant and a magister. My parents would never have approved. He had two siblings, both younger. I had initially come to their estate to be engaged to his younger sister, but I, as stated before, held no such interest."  
He took back a little more of his wine, "I indulged at the party and wandered out when I was fed up enough with my father trying to set up a marital arrangement for me."  
"His name was Rilienus. He tended the gardens as a hobby but the passion he held for such shone through," He explained, lowering his head.  
"Once this is over, assuming we don't die and the world is no longer in peril, I'm planning on returning to Tevinter," He stated abruptly, "I… Everything we've accomplished here feels too important to simply ignore. Or maybe I just want to change things back home. You talk of all the terrible things you've experienced between Kirkwall and Kinloch Hold and I've yet to tell you mine. I was an insatiable brat, I would pick fights with other mages in the Circle because I thought I was better, knew it even. If anyone - I wanted to prove these preconceived notions of being a Magister's son wrong, but in being there, and in doing so, I fear I only strengthened such. I got into fights frequently. Bullied, I suppose is a better word. They were very rarely ever fair fights. I was moved from one circle to another because of my misbehaviour. It wasn't until I'd passed my harrowing and experienced more of the world outside that I'd come to realize how much bullshit I'd been fed and how much I clung onto-"

Thin wine-ridden lips, Dorian noted mentally, were the reason he presently lacked the ability to speak. Unexpected as it was, it was hardly unpleasant. The foolishness he had mentioned before applied to Cullen as well, one he was presently being indulged in, one he could actively respond to.

He kissed back, chasing those lips as the kiss broke. A window of seconds which he pursued, directing Cullen's lips back to his own. That stubble was so pleasing against fingertips and smooth skin, following it down his cheek and to his neck.

Cullen reared back, the illusion of what could be shattered, "What do you mean you're leaving?"

Dorian licked his lips, still feeling the fever which he desperately wished to chase further,"I mean just that. Once Corypheus is defeated, I plan to return to Tevinter. Make changes. Maybe I'll set slaves free, that would really piss of the nobles."  
"Unless the slaves don't want to be freed," He thought out loud, "Damned internalized oppressions."

"Even though you and Bull are…?" Cullen's dismay was so genuinely sweet that it hurt.

Hurt in the sort of way that made Dorian laugh because he could think of no better way to handle it, "We're what? A couple? He calls me _Kadan_ , he's _Amatus_ and together we have sex, fulfill each other physically and… And…."  
He struggled with a sigh, "He's fully aware I'm using him, yet he's so genuine that I hardly know what to make of him."  
It hurt to admit it, but felt good all the same. Truth admitted.  
"He's not… He's so far from everything I imagined or could have imagined. But if your asking whether or not I love him… Well, I'm not sure. I like him well enough. I…. He's a good man."  
Dorian's expression turned pained, "If the Inquisitor wishes for me to remain once all of this is through, I shall. Otherwise, I'd prefer to make a difference."

"You'll have the Inquisition's full support should you desire it," Cullen reassured him, taking a seat back on the table, finishing off his glass and the small amount remaining in the bottle beyond it, "And I'm… I'm sorry for kissing you so suddenly like that. It was - it was wrong of me."

"You could kiss me again, and I assure you, I'd hardly mind," Dorian's gaze was fixed upon the flustered man, "But I understand your hesitance and welcome the respect."  
"...This is such a mess isn't it?" He admitted, turning his focus to the empty glass, "Trevelyan once mentioned that he wished for me to not churn up any drama but if there is any, its between the three of us and the three of us do a fair enough job keeping it all quiet."

Cullen laughed again, lighter than before but still just as flustered, "I'm not sure this is considered drama."

"Nonsense," Dorian pushed himself up and out of the chair, "Have you ever read the play 'Half-Summer Darktime's Fantasy'? It's like a love-square of relationships. The exception in our case being that its maybe one and a half, assuming that instance from before was just me pushing too far and that Bull is entirely conniving."

"One and a half?" Cullen questioned.

" _Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion_ ," Dorian quoted, "But you are a lion. That is the visage you bestow upon yourself. I am the lowly fool who would fall for such a visage as much as I am the fool that would indulge in an escape from it. Hence the _Ménage à trois_."

"Was that Orliesian?" The blond face was riddled with confusion.

"Yes, it's an arrangement of three," Dorian explained, holding up to fingers and a thumb, "Sometimes domestic, sometimes sexual in nature."  
"... _Fuck_ , I'm drunk," Dorian uttered under his breath.

Cullen finished off the bottle, Dorian stood watching as his adam's apple bobbed. He was standing much closer than intended now that he was out of the chair, even Cullen seemed surprised by that fact. The empty bottle was set back on the desk, "How much did you have to drink?"

"Does it really matter?" Dorian asked lightly, "I stopped paying attention after the fourth ale."

"Not forty-three sovereigns worth, I hope."

Dorian chuckled, "No, not at all."

"And then, what? Three glasses of wine?"

"Sounds about right," Dorian was staring into those brilliantly bright brown eyes of the Commander now.

"Dorian…"

"I know," He breathed out, "I didn't expect anything to come from this, nor would I want it to. I-… I'm tired of being a mistake to others."

"You're not," Gloved hand on his cheek, brushing over the small if insatiable mole that sat just above his cheekbone.

"To you? Maybe not. But to others? Certainly," his eyes fled Cullen's face, watching his distorted reflection within the Commander's arm piece. The candles warped the image more with the way they licked the air and reflected light, " _If_ you would be so generous as to allow me to stay this evening, I would be grateful."

"Stay?" Came the bewildered response.

"I can remain out of sight if you've work to attend, though honestly, you could use the break. We could play chess. I could find more wine, whatever we do is up to you."

"Water," Cullen directed, pulling forth his own personal gourd to fill up the glass Dorian had previously drained of wine, "Then bed."

"So the Commander commands," He accepted it easily enough. There was already far too much fighting for either of them to incite more. He took the glass back as easily as he had managed with the wine, though the taste was lacking and a contrast was created against the sensations alcohol presented his tongue.

Cullen sent him up the ladder after three glasses, directing him to the bed pan should he require such at any point. Dorian's mind was on other matters. His present attire wasn't truly suitable bedclothes, a fact determined by flopping back against the otherwise soft bed and staring up through the roof, at the stars.

An inviting sight, but hardly without consequence.

"Why in the world do you have a hole in your roof? The draft is incredible," Dorian both stated and complained.

"I haven't the time," Cullen's voice drifted up through the floorboards, "And the draft… I overheat most nights."

Dorian began working off his boots, then belts then the rest that he deemed undesirable to sleep in before crawling beneath the covers, "I don't know how you Fereldans do it. It's positively freezing."

He had pulled the covers up to his neck by the time he heard feet on the ladder. Cullen's head peaked up over the floor moments later, "Just used to it, I suppose."

"You've the advantage of such, I suppose," Dorian breathed out, shutting his eyes so the Commander could change in privacy. He opened his eyes again only once there was a weight beside him on the bed. White undershirt and leggings, Dorian couldn't help but smirk a little to himself.

"Should I fetch another blanket?"

Dorian shook his head, "I'm sure I'll manage. My apologies in advance. Perhaps the advantage of Fereldan's is due entirely to their bedclothes, as I lack such at this present place and time."

A blush crept up onto Cullen's cheeks, "It's uh-no worries. We can…" He cleared his throat, "We can sleep between layers. Or I can provide you with some."

"If that's what you'd be more comfortable with, that's fine," He assured the other man, "I, on the other hand, am entirely impartial."

Cullen crawled into the bed, a thin blanket separating their bodies. There was plenty Dorian could have brought up to create tension, to create real drama but they were all adults here. Bull was as capable of making his own decisions as Dorian was making his.  
Along with a lack of.

"What do you think you'll be doing once Corypheus is defeated?" He asked lightly, turning his head towards Cullen.

"I imagine I'll be doing the same, or carrying this as long and as far as I deem it necessary to before finding some other cause," Cullen gave him a sidelong glance.

"Some other cause like aiding the world's survival or something else?"

"…Perhaps both, if something should come up."

A question pinched the tip of Dorian's tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to ask the Commander that. He could ask Krem, he could ask Bull but this was Cullen's cause. He helped pull this inquisition together to lead and command it.

It wasn't Dorian's place to make those sort of requests.

"I…" His voice came out slow, sorting through the slippery mess of emotions clouding his head, "Never did apologize for that comment I made when we first met."

"Which?" Cullen's expression was confused, as if he forgot entirely. It had been some time ago now, back in haven, back when Corypheus first attacked with the Venatori.

"I believe I compared you to a blood mage," Dorian sucked in his breath, "That was wrong of me. You did nothing to deserve such."

"I _was_ going to kill us all," Cullen lightened the mood with a small smile, lips curling up just beside that scar, interrupted stubble. What Dorian would give to kiss those lips again. 

But he couldn't, not now and possibly not ever. That was something he had to make peace with.

"Still, it was wrong and rude and as far as first impressions go. I'm sorry I hadn't made a better one, even if my entrance was most dramatic."

"Get some rest, Dorian," Cullen coaxed instead, "We'll talk more in the morning."

A breath out, a rearrangement of his posture and placing, Dorian shut his eyes and made an attempt at resting. The bed easily supported two bodies but there was only the slightest indication that one had ever rested here towards the center. He rolled over several times before settling into a position he didn't want to move from. Limbs drained of their energy and heavy with alcohol, he fell asleep.

. . . 

The fade was rarely the same twice for Dorian. This time, it was a room that barely contained any light. Distant candles reflecting across the walls and casting his shadow across a stone floor, Dorian tried to get to his feet. It was an effort prevented by a weight pressing at his back. He struggled against it, finding his efforts fruitless no matter how much he strained against it.

The more he struggled, the more it pushed back until he collapsed against the ground in defeat.

Cool metal clasped around his wrists and ankles. Fighting it would only make it worse. A hum and chant began softly resounding through the chamber, rising in volume as it drew closer. Any efforts to gain sight on the source was met with resistance, the bindings pulled tighter making escape all the more unattainable.

"Dorian, why must you never do as you are told?"

 

"Why do you disobey your father so much?"

 

"He only wishes to help you."

 

"I could help you."

The voice was so very much like his own fathers and yet so very not. The assumed demon was speaking over the chant, footsteps drawing nearer and rounding his left.

"He was going to use two slaves," The voice announced next to his ear, "He should have used five."

"But for you," The demon clicked his tongue, "You only need _one_."

Dorian's arm burned, he thrashed against the metal and chain that kept him on his knees.

"One," the demon repeated, snapping its fingers as a body fell before Dorian and blood pooled on the ground, seeping between stone. It drew closer at a crawl, speeding suddenly as if taking on a life of its own. The blood spread apart to draw over stone and grout in a manner so unnatural and controlled, giving shape and form to a sigil that began to glow beneath Dorian. A panic stirred in his stomach as he tried to tear himself from the dream.

If he drank more this never would have happened. If he drank less than maybe he wouldn't have drawn this part of the fade to himself.

The demon taunted him.

" _You don't need to make a deal with a demon to become a blood mage, Dorian_."

 

A gasp tore out of him as woke wide eyed. Cool air burned in his lung as he drew an abundance of breath back into his body.

"Impia-Impiarum… Impiarum daemonia," He muttered under his breath, drawing a hand to his forehead to ensure he remained unchanged.

"You were muttering something in your sleep," Cullen's voice was quiet over the night. He was sitting upright, hands on Dorian's shoulders as if he had physically pulled Dorian awake himself. His face hard to make out in the shadows though concern appeared present in both voice and posture, "...I thought it would be best to wake you. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate it," Dorian finally had enough breath to manage a sigh, "Most nights I try to drink myself to a stupor so I don't have to deal with such things."

"This happens regularly?"

"Regularly enough," Dorian pushed himself up into a sitting position, "My family's lineage is directly connected to the Dreamers, though I take no pleasure in it quite as Solas does. I also lack the will and drive to learn to control them."

He rubbed his wrist, still feeling the faint mental imprint of cool metal clasped over his skin, but he could still hear the chant in his head.

"Really? What's the purpose?" He scowled.

"Purpose..?" Cullen looked lost from what Dorian could make out in the dark.

Dorian remained silent, his gaze returning to the layers of sheets and blankets that covered him from the waist down.

"Purpose for what?" Cullen's voice found more strength.

"My father was going to use blood magic on me when I was--In order for me to fulfill-" The words kept catching in his throat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling as if his head had just been dunked in a bucket of water and the pressure was pushing against his ears.  
He took a deep breath, both in then out, "He wanted to make me more 'acceptable'. Trevelyan had me speak with him… You can imagine how well that went."

"You're still at odds with him then?" Cullen was sitting over the sheets. Perhaps he was too warm, or worried.

Dorian didn't read into it too much, "He wanted my forgiveness but after something like that, what is there really to forgive? Forgive the fact that the person I'd become was no longer desirable or profitable? He had no right to ask that of me, not when he's done nothing to change that. It's the same lies and backhandedness, just a different day."

"So that's why…."

"Yes. Which is also reason for my apology though I'm feeling sufficiently less drunk at the moment," He raised his gaze, taking in the stars through the open roof, "Have you slept?"

"..No."

"Do you intend to sleep?" Dorian drew his attention to the blond who was also gazing out to the heavens.

His head shook.

"Perhaps we should play chess then. I've no intention to go back to sleep with this weight on my mind."

The sat in the dark for awhile, neither quite ready to make the trip back down in the dark. Cullen's weight moved towards the head of the bed, reaching for something in the dark, only to strike a match and light a nearby candle.

"I'll… Get us set up while you get changed," He stated, getting to his feet and climbing down in his bedclothes.

Dorian was left alone with the small flicker of candlelight to keep him company. The comfort and warmth of bed and blankets abandoned if only so he could dress slowly. His attention was stolen by a tree that hung in through the opening in the roof, leaves already in bloom. In his mind, it was already the next day, leaving the dream to be forgotten by the time he climbed down into the candlelit office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i used latin for the tevene bc i'm not that confident to make logical guesses when it comes to fantasy languages.  
> half-summer darktime's fantasy was a parody on midsummer night's dream provided by my fiance annnnd there was a lot of little factors i had to rework throughout this chapter but i think i'm back on course with where i wanted to go with this (i also wrote a portion of this drunk bc i kept getting stuck about halfway through. bonus game: guess which parts maybe?)  
> thank you all for reading and the comments and kudos are so sweet that i really don't know how to respond outside of my most sincere gratitude. thank you all so much!


	12. Salted Caramel

What bothered Cullen wasn't Dorian showing up partially intoxicated, or confessing he had ambitions elsewhere. It wasn't even that the man had practically invited himself into Cullen's bed, nor was it the night terror that followed or the muttering that resulted there from.

Those were all things Cullen found himself capable of dealing with, capable of accepting regardless of any personal tidings on the matter. He was tempted to write down and investigate what the words Dorian had uttered meant. Only vague sounds stuck in Cullen's mind and with how little Cullen knew of the language, even if he were to search - it may not result in much. Dorian's slumbered tone was enough to make him aware that, whatever Dorian dreamed, had not been anything good.

He moved from the papers on his desk to collect the chessboard he had stored away, setting it down the the chair as he realized he'd need to clear it off before he got any further.  
Papers were cast to the floor in deliberate impatience. He didn't want to organize the mess just as he didn't want to determine anything's value. The two worked hand in hand and while satisfying to do, left him perturbed.

"Everything alright?" Dorian called as he clambered down the ladder, "You're not having difficulty setting the board are you?"

Thin lines of red stretched out across skin to form various shapes. It was distinctly Tevinter, as it didn't harbour the same intricate lines of Elvhen Blood Writing or the bold shapes that could sometimes be seen on Dwarven merchants. The mark Dorian had on his arm was a bit like a sigil and whatever purpose it served was far beyond any of Cullen's knowing.  
_That_  he found unsettling. It ate at him quietly with concern.  
The board was set on the table for him to begin arranging the pieces.

"Is everything alright?" Dorian asked again, feet tapping lightly against the floor as he descended off the ladder.

Cullen realized then that he had neglected to say anything to his question, "Oh- Sorry, I just got distracted."

Dorian's expression rang with mutual concern, but said nothing as he made his approach of the desk. He was half dressed, or as half dressed as he could be in the elaborate design of materials he frequently wore. The sleeves were both off and the top seemed to be composed of several pieces, though never in a way Cullen would have suspected.

His arms remained bare, carrying what usually sat on top under his arm to be set down against the desk on the floor.

"Did you wish to talk about it?" Dorian proceeded to ask, his eyes sweeping the floor and desk, never quite making their way to Cullen's face.

He tensed, tracing the red ink with his eyes to Dorian's fingers. It had been so cleverly disguised by what now lay on the floor that Cullen felt foolish to bring it up as a topic of conversation.

"Would you like to sit?" He offered instead, standing away from his chair to invite Dorian over.

The mage shook his head to decline, "I'll be quite fine right here."  
He occupied the edge of the desk, leaning against it for the time being though even that caused the desk to rock. Cullen really needed to have that looked at.

"You move," Cullen offered instead of the chair, slinking back into the otherwise unoccupied seat for the time being.

Dorian's eyes followed him, studying him in his own peculiar manner. It didn't feel at all invasive as some others did, Dorian's eyes, while perverse in the way they followed him at times, never invaded. For as much want as Cullen could sense from him at times, there was still respect. Dorian still saw him as a person, which was far more than some.

He understood the importance of that now. There was a time when he might not have returned such a sentiment, not to Bull and certainly not to Dorian. He was better and could still do much better. It was a reminder that he found himself acting on in the moment.  
"…I suppose the answer to your question is a no," he added after a moment, Dorian's hand stilled over the third piece he had touched despite moving none. A quiet stall and dance, "There's still a lot I'm trying to process through. Work does a good job of distracting me from that."

"Is it something I could help with?" Dorian offered, choosing a piece and sliding it forward.

Cullen shook his head, moving to return the choice with one of his own, "I'm not sure."  
It was the automatic response, with more thought given he corrected himself, "You are helping right now though, just by being here. Thank you."

Dorian's expression conveyed surprise although his speech didn't, "I should think so. Being blessed with my company by choice is, within itself, reason to rejoice." A piece was moved, "But what I am offering is simple comfort in knowing I am willing to listen any time you may require an extra set of ears."  
"What happened in the Arbor Wilds was draining on all of us, but you stayed up on the front lines longer than any of us. That is both commendable and exhausting," Dorian carried on, as if stopping before would have ended the conversation. The mage was likely correct in assuming so though such sentiments were always not so easily shared.

"It had to be done," Cullen offered with a short tone. 

_What's the point of bringing it up if you don't talk about it?_

It was a mental reminder that Cullen sighed over. He forced himself to elaborate, "Fighting is one of the few things I seem capable of any more. Paper work too, I suppose but that's not my preference, just a necessity."

"So you're fine with what transpired?"

Cullen swallowed at the thought, eyeing the board, "With Samson? It was inevitable. Whatever redeeming features he might have had were lost the moment he agreed to aid that monster."

Dorian held the silence for some time, ending it when he finally moved another piece, "You realize that is neither a yes nor a no."

"It was intended to be neither," Cullen gave the faintest hint of smile, another piece moved one space forward as he glanced up quickly to see Dorian watching him.

"...When you put it like that, it implies you are both satiated by the outcome and critical of it," Dorian moved the same piece as last forward again.

Cullen chuckled, "It sounds like your criticizing me."

"Quite the contrary, I admire the complexity," Dorian offered with the hints of a smile all his own. Skin scrunched by the corners of his eyes, reflecting a warmth across his features against the otherwise chill night air. He began to understand what Dorian had meant before they laid in his bed together.

Cullen's voice caught in his throat, a flush tracing his features as he realized he had no well meaning comeback for the flirtation Dorian tossed his way. 

His hesitation earned a chuckle, a piece moved forward as another was captured. Cullen couldn't bring himself to mind.

"We should…." He started, feeling his nerves rise as the words left his mouth, "Visit Honneleath."

Dorian remained silent, Cullen's gaze could hardly be pried from the chessboard. A fine place to stare as it was his turn anyways. Cullen moved where one had been before, successfully capturing the piece that captured his own.

"I suppose the timing is ill," He added as the piece was set aside, "We've both much to do before Corypheus is no more."

"After then," Dorian offered absently, "And if you've the itch to get away, I've a place in mind that we can visit and return from within the morning."

Cullen raised his head in surprise, "You do?"

Dorian's smile returned, warmer under the candlelight, "We'll go after this." He gestured to the chessboard, "We've some time until dawn, this should help close the gap."

The statement brought back memories of a clear rush and disregard, a morning where he wasn't sure he had seen the mark that clearly decorated Dorian's arm and the sleepy Inquisitor it brought him.

The game itself progressed silently between short quips and curve of lips. Dorian took to sitting on the desk itself after sometime, posed as he made each move in his own calculated manner. His fingers lingered over each piece as he contemplated his move, knobbed fingers tapping the top of each piece he considered. They were the same fingers that brushed against his chin and neck, the same fingers that dug into the mane he decorated himself with. With the subtle admiration came memories of fleeting kisses and a lingering sense of knowing. Cullen abruptly shifted his seat to distract him from the line of thought that followed, though it wasn't enough to shed it from his mind entirely.  
It was utterly deviant and he was going to have to confront it head on at some point or another, but for now, his focus returned to the match as much as he could direct it to. The victory remained claimed by Dorian.

"I'm afraid I've lost count of our score," Cullen gathered the pieces in apt need of distraction.

"Conveniently," Dorian teased, "But I believe we're somewhere around nine to seven now. All those matches on the way back did make it a touch difficult to keep track."

"They did," Cullen agreed, getting up to put the board back in its usual storage, "Should we get moving to that destination you mentionned?"

Dorian got up and off the desk to look out the nearest window, "Yes, I suppose we could. We may have to wait a little while pending on how quickly we arrive, but it should be manageable."

"I'll get dressed then," Cullen moved about the office to climb the ladder.

Dorian remained at the window, staring out of it in excess.

It never took Cullen long to dress as he was accustomed to throwing on an entire suit of armor in less than a minute if it was required. He tucked fabric into the back of his belt before climbing back down to see Dorian putting the papers he had tossed earlier to the floor back on his desk. Straps and belts of his own wardrobe were fit back onto his figure with sleeves covering any signs of red traced onto his skin.

He wanted to ask, but felt the conversation was best held off for another time.

"We might want to bring snacks," Dorian offered, picking the gourd of water Cullen kept near his desk and giving it a shake, "Do you have anything on hand?"

The Commander rounded his desk, pulling forth a bag of salted seeds he kept stored inside for when he was feeling peckish, though he often forgot about their existence when he found himself absorbed in everything he had to accomplish throughout the day.

"Wonderful," Dorian chimed, looping his finger through a string that twined around the bottle of water, "Follow me then."

The sky itself was still incredibly dark, though shades of blue were becoming more visible. The land itself was cast in a sort of murky grey, only the slightest color could be made out as they walked. Cullen latched the bag onto his belt for convenience, following Dorian beyond the gates of Skyhold.

He trusted that they'd be back within morning, he had no reason to distrust Dorian's assessment. The only reason they'd be delayed would likely be of their own doing but for now, they walked in silence.

The usual path leading out of Skyhold was abandoned to one small and narrow, made of dirt and trimmed with grass. Careful footing was required to make the trek down as the ground itself gave to weight and pressure, causing them to slide. It was a path that was fit for no caravan. The sky slowly brightened as they walked, casting pale blue that blended into darker shades, chasing off the night. The pale light that was cast traced their skin in grey, applying the same brush to the grass and the trees that became more abundant as they walked. It was light enough now that Cullen could see goosebumps that raised from Dorian's skin.

"Are you cold?" Cullen asked, realizing now that the man was making do with the barest of material.

Dorian's step slowed to a stop, "No, I'm only shivering to give myself something extra to do."

"You could have said something," He offered sympathetically, slowing to a stop as well, "Here."

Dorian turned as Cullen worked off the layer that sat atop his armour passing it to the ill dressed Tevinter. Hesitancy was brief but present all before Dorian snatched it up and wrapped the fabric around himself, "It's heavier than it looks. Is this what you use in place of back plating?"

Cullen shook his head, "But it does create an extra cushion."

"No kidding," Dorian's voice was distant, distracted by the fabric a moment. He began walking again after he seemed sufficiently satisfied with whatever warmth it gave him. Despite the lack of sleeves, Dorian found a way to make it work. The fur trim sat unevenly to cover the shoulder Dorian regularly left bare.

Foliage became more dense the further they walked and as the sun brought more color to the sky, the greys of the night began to saturate out. Dorian moved ahead, brushing aside overhanging leaves and branches to reveal an alcove. Cullen moved through at the slightest inclination that he was to do so. The branches swept back down as Dorian followed through after him, a hand gently settling on the mid of his back, "Now we wait."

Dorian's breath was the only thing Cullen could hear over the rustle of wind through the trees. It was mostly even, though occasionally interrupted by a shiver that drew through him on inhale. Cullen settled on returning the pleasant touch, a gloved hand to warm the otherwise bare shoulder. His overcoat could only too so much for the mage, but he hoped it would be enough for the time being. The touch on his back crawled to his side, drawing him closer as they shared the space and sight.  
It was bowered here, greys overtaking what color had been settling over the land with the rising of the sun. As more drew up, color speckled through between the trees.  
He hadn't taken notice of the flowers that presently laid closed about the space initially. They greys made it difficult to distinguish from branch and bush. As more sunlight beamed through, he realized the distinction and the flowers weren't just any dormant flower.  
When it came to the Inquisitions resource runs, Cullen was more often than not in charge of ores and furs. Leliana had a preference for her scouts collect herbs and medicinal plants, but he had spent enough time around the table to know the rarity and potential of Crystal Grace.

"Does it remind you of that garden?" Cullen found himself asking after a moment, pondering if that was why Dorian thought to suddenly share this sight with him.

"A little," Dorian's voice moved like fog, "Vaguely."

Cullen let the thought settle atop the plants like morning dew, standing close and silent as the sunlight filtered through more and more. Bird songs filled the silence as a warmth crept up with sun. The flowers unfurled themselves so slowly at first that Cullen hardly noticed.

"There," Dorian's voice was a whisper, a squeeze on his side directed Cullen's attention as the smallest ones neared full bloom. Color was brought back to the world, casting vibrant golds and greens into the aclove as rows Crystal Grace bloomed before them.

His voice was nearly all air.

In his peripheral, a smile blossomed and with it a thrum of possibility. Cullen lingered in the silence and warmth that began coming off Dorian, unsure of whether it was mood or magic (or both). He pulled away only when his heat became too much.

"I have something for you," He announced, making the decision abruptly. It gave reason to room, as it was required so he could remove his boot. Ungracefully one might add, as he hopped about without balance. Dorian steadied with an hand and an expression most perplexed. The coin he kept inside for safe keeping was dropped out into his hand, and the boot returned to the earth so he could put it back on.

Any confusion Dorian wore faded into amusement at the sight of the coin, "A foot token."

"Something like that," Cullen mused, grinding his foot against the earth so it would sit right. Balance regained and focus returned to the matter, he elaborated, "My brother gave this to me the day I left for Templar training. He said it was for luck, though really, I suspect he just had it in his pocket all along. Must have felt he needed something to see me off with. Or rather- Well, it was convenient coincidence in any case. I ended up keeping it though Templars are encouraged to discard such things. Faith should be enough."

"You saw reason to hide it from them all these years," Dorian's eyes remained fixed on the coin.

Cullen's lowered to it, turning it about in his hand, "It was the only reminder I had of home. Coming back to Fereldan again after all this time... Well, I thought it might be an impossibility the day I left for my training, though I suppose we're just along the boarder of it right now."

Dorian didn't reach for it, a flicker behind the eyes to suggest he was processing all Cullen had just said. He turned to Dorian and took his hand instead.

"I realize you just watched me pull it from my boot," He offered with some humor, "And for that I apologize but regardless of what we face with Corypheus, and whatever follows, I feel it would be best in your hands. For luck."

Dorian's fingers closed around the coin after Cullen laid it in the center of his palm with a firmness. His eyes read a fear of letting it go, "I'm…. Not the greatest at accepting gifts, I'll have you know. Often times, I feel a nagging to return the gesture in some shape or form.  In this case, I don't feel as though that's quite as necessary. You want me to have this."

It was both statement and question, his eyes were pleading for some knowledge of how to respond. A smile was all Cullen could think to offer him as guidance, "Yes."

"You could have at least turned it into a pendant or something," Dorian lowered his head quickly, an aversion, "Now I've got to figure some way of lugging this around with me so I can ensure it never ends up lost. What good is a lucky coin then?"

"Dorian," Cullen offered in a gentle tone, "It…" He stopped himself from saying something incredibly cliched, smiling all the more bashfully at the thought that crossed his mind and nearly passed his lips. "I can have it made into a pendant. It shouldn't be so hard to do. I'll have Dagna look into it when we get back, or borrow the undercroft for personal use."

Dorian brought his other hand up to his face, disguising his lips, "…I was being sarcastic, you-- _darned_ Fereldan."

"I can still have it done if it's more convenient for you," Cullen offered regardless, taking Dorian's hand within his own in hopes of smoothing over the emotional response he merited.

" _This_ is the nicest thing anyone's done for me since I've come down here," His voice wavered, inflections caused my emotions he couldn't keep level, "-Outrightly, the nicest thing. I'm not sure if that's to your credit or the discredit of everyone else."  
He forced a laugh, "You're the only one who hasn't, to my knowledge, settled for bad mouthing either me or my homeland -sometimes in the same breath - to some extent or another. Or treat me entirely as some _other_. ...Indifference is also the medium many sit on, unsure what to make of me and unwilling to get involved with me." He rambled, his breath shook, "This is hardly fair…"

"Sorry," Cullen apologized though he know he didn't need to. He placed his other hand on top as a sign of solidarity.

Dorian's head raised, his look just a pleading as before, eyes glistening with an emotion he tried to keep dammed.

"You should keep it," Dorian tried to usher the coin back suddenly, a distraction as he clumsily brushed at his eyes, "It means too much, and you've done too much already."

"I want you to have it, Dorian," Cullen assured him, "If I didn't, I wouldn't have offered."

"But it has _sentimental value_. If you're going to offer this, the least I can do is offer my duck," Dorian ushered, "It might not be quite the equivalent but I very much doubt I have much at this point that is."

"Duck?" Cullen questioned, not at all prepared to look after a pet if that's what it was.

"It's wood," Dorian clarified after a moment, gathering himself with a breath in and a heavy sigh out.

"You don't owe me anything, Dorian," Cullen insisted, "I'm giving you this because I want you to have it. You don't have to keep it if you don't want it but you already gave me something that no price can be put on."

Astonishment resided on Dorian's features as the connection was made. It was all around them, something Dorian thought to share.

"Maker's breath," Dorian's whole frame relaxed, relieved in collective consciousness, "I told you I was no good at accepting gifts."

"I believe you did alright," Cullen reassured him, leaning forward to pat him on the shoulder, "There's always room for some improvement."

Dorian's laugh was hollowed for the sake of humor, "I suppose everyone has room for a little growth, even me."

"I'm beginning to think it's healthiest to never stop growing," Cullen admitted, dazzled by the way the surroundings reflected in Dorian's eyes and how the sparse sunlight danced across his skin. He was so enraptured by the beauty before him that he found himself brought back briefly to another time, the faintest traces in the vaguest similarities. The palette was different but the feeling was the same.

_A smile and a laugh. Hair tucked behind her ear._

Dorian was present, real, and alive. He made that known by speaking, "That's a good way to begin."

It was grounding for Cullen, maybe that was why he found Dorian's company so preferable in his leisure despite their many differences. He was comfortably challenging, different but not intensely so. There was enough like and unlike anything he was used to that he was drawn in. Thoughts skipped from one to another. He felt he should tell Dorian himself about the evening with The Iron Bull but now was not the time for such. Soon though, perhaps on the way back.

No, it was best to get it out in the open now. The opportunity was staring him in the face and it would be a disservice to them all to avoid the topic any longer.

"The other evening, when we returned from the Arbor Wilds," Cullen launched into another speech unprepared, "After some conversations, I took the Iron Bull up on an offer..."  
"We… uh…. _Intermingled,"_ He hoped the emphasis he stressed with be enough to get the implication across, rubbing the back of his neck for both fear and embarrassment.

"…He informed me," Dorian seemed to tense, "I wasn't expecting you to however."

The weight of such sat on Cullen.

"I appreciate you honesty," Dorian added, "And I will not breathe a word of it to anyone, assuming this is something you'd prefer kept quiet."

He gave a small nod, "I'm not sure why I saw it through exactly."  
_A lie_.  
"I was stressed."  
_Convenient truth_.  
"I suppose I just wanted to know what it could be like. I-I've never.." He stuttered over the statement lowering his head, "I've never partaken in such affairs before. There have been a few string of lovers here and then but they've never… Every time it's just…"   
His jaw clenched, "A mess."

"Did he help?" Dorian asked, hesitation marked in the way he paused after the first word passed his lips.

Cullen thought about it, taking a moment to really examine the happenings of that evening, "…I think so."  
"But it may still take some time," He offered as an after thought, "I'm not sure about a lot of it… What it means and how things work." He felt a bit like laughing, "I've never been in a relationship that wasn't overnight."  
Which admittedly was still very much what this could still be. If Dorian said no, Cullen would never go back. None of this would ever happen again, he wasn't even certain he wanted it to. It was all so new and unfamiliar.

"You talk about it as if lust and love are the same," Dorian pointed out, stepping forward. His hand tugged Cullen's belt, catching him by surprise and alarm. The sack of seeds was removed from where he had tied it, and nulling all speeding thoughts that went through Cullen's brain.

"The truth is, Cullen," Dorian explained, opening the bag to pour some of the seeds out into his hand, "Or at least a partial truth, is that you have been in relationships that have lasted more than one night. You've likely have relationships that have spanned your lifetime. They may not _all_ be romantic, of course, and often times the majority aren't. They can have sparse moments scattered throughout, none, next to none, or be so bloated with romantic intentions and lust that it hardly seems as though there's room for anything else. Some may just be a wild mix of all those previously mentioned. The important part is determining what you prefer and what works."  
"If boastful lust serves you in the moment and that's what you want, there's nothing wrong with pursuing it. If a slow drawn out courting is more your flare, there's nothing wrong with that either. It's what you value and what you're comfortable with, the tricky part sometimes can be in finding someone who shares those values."  
Dorian didn't seem upset, not in tone or presentation but his expression remained passive.

"What do you value?" The question drifted out of Cullen's mouth.

"I thought I knew," Dorian sighed, "Life has a way of constantly tossing questions however."

"…I'm sorry if I've overstep any of the boundaries you've set in your relationship with Bull," A guilt slowly set in.

Dorian's head shook, "If I were with anyone but him, that may be more of a pressing issue. He's…." A sigh, "Certainly one of a kind. I don't think I'd make the exception for anyone else either, but perhaps that's pending as well. It really quite hard to say."  
"In short, I have faith you both engaged for reasons all your own. I won't hold that against or above either of you. And I'm grateful you shared this me, though you hardly had to."

"Should we…" Cullen's voice trailed off, watching as Dorian tossed the seeds back into his mouth, "…Should we head back to Skyhold? We can grab breakfast, and I can turn that coin into a pendant with your help."

"If you string up with some raw fabric, I'd never forgive you," Dorian stated in jest, "Cleaned up leather is always a good bet however."

"Is that a yes?" He edged towards getting an answer.

Overdramatic, Dorian released a sigh, "Yes, I suppose it is."

 

The trip back was less eventful than the journey down, though Dorian never lessened his hold on the coin, not even to look at it. That had to mean something, though Cullen was afraid to know what for certain. A point was made to pause and return the bulk of fur and fabric Dorian wore to its original owner.

"As to not raise any unnecessary rumors," Dorian said as he passed it over, the coin remained clutched in his palm.

Cullen dressed himself with it, tucking the back into his belt out of habit, they carried on. 

Harrit was found on the way to breakfast, explaining briefly what small job they required him for in between the meal of their choosing (scrambled eggs and large grain bread had been Cullen's preference).

The undercroft was greeted that morning by a party of three. Begrudgingly, Dorian handed the coin over to be pierced and smoothed so a string, cord or piece of fabric could run through it without catching. Harrit made quick work of it while Cullen investigated the materials the Inquisitor held in excess. He'd inquire about them upon the man's return. Once the coin had passed Harrit's tests, Dorian wasted no time fixing it around his neck, thanking Harrit for his handiwork.

The coin was slipped under fabric and out of view as they made their departure of the area, bumping into Dagna on their way out. She gave them both a vibrant greeting in passing then carried on towards whatever work she had for the day.

"I thought it smelt like foot," Cullen teased under his breath as they passed through the door out of the Undercroft, loud enough for only Dorian to hear.

"It does," Dorian assured him, "Which is why I'm going to borrow the Inquisitor's bath, if you'll excuse me."

A laugh escaped him, "You're excused. Feel free to stop by the training grounds once your finished though. Maybe you could run some routines with the troops."

"I thought most were still out in the wilds," Dorian raised his brows as he wandered past the empty throne to the Inquisitor's quarters.

"They are," Cullen clarified, "But we've been slowly bringing them back. It can never hurt to be overly prepared."

"Too true, I'll take your offer into consideration," Dorian's head bowed, excusing himself as he slipped off through the door.

 

…

 

Dorian didn't stop by, or if he had, Cullen hadn't noticed. Apparently their was misbehaviours amongst the troops on the way back, something they all received a thorough lecture for, though the one resposinble faced more severe punishments.  
Varric had caught Cullen on his way to the training grounds, directing him to Leliana for more information and the information he had received, soured the Commander's mood considerably.

It was not an issue to be handled lightly. Had the Inquisitor been present, perhaps it would have been handled more courtly but with the Inquisitor absent, judgement was reserved only for the victim of the situation. Cullen held no reservation in dealing punishment, nor did his serious tone lax once the matter was handled.

In short, he hoped Dorian didn't show up because if he had, he would have had to partake in a routine most rigourous. Cullen surely would have noticed, had the mage shown up. Without the issued armour, Dorian would stick out like a sore thumb, or so Cullen thought.

He called the session to a close, gesturing forth the troop who had acted, not only irresponsibly, but selfishly. He had been ordered to perform directly under Cullen's scrutiny and serve as a target for the Commander's demonstrations. Now that the session was finished, Cullen made certain the man remained, seeing to it personally that he was exiled with only death as an option should he return. The name and face was committed to memory. Cullen nudged the man in the direction of the exit, which was when he spotted Dorian, wiping sweat from his brow. They would have to speak upon his return for more pressing matters were at hand.

The former recruit was walked well beyond the stone gate and the path that lead away from the stronghold. Cullen waited at the end, watching as the man carried ahead on his own, no food, no items of to call his own. He had been stripped of his weapons and armor post practice. The only matter that remained was to ensure he never returned. Cullen offered to see to it personally.

The sun hit its highest point in the day but Cullen remained posted. It reminded him of reciting the chant in front of a candle, though with many more interruptions. Any scouts with immediate business came to him directly, writing off whatever matters required his approval, some requiring a signature. Others came by to inform him of the work that had compiled in his absence. Another informed him of a squabble between mage and templar, though as he was posted, he couldn't attend to resolve it himself. Leliana took over any active duties that might otherwise concern him, and while he knew she may not be the most akin to solutions, she could at least adopt alternative perspectives to her own gain. He was hoping those gains didn't create new problems for him to fix when he was no longer fixed to the spot. The scout was informed to give him any updates should the situation change for better or worse.

Hunger combatted for focus but resilience ruled as he watched the figure descend to the designated point. It would take the man twice as long to climb back up as it had taken him to climb down. Finally, he could hand the post off to someone else. All guards on lookout were informed to execute the man on sight were he to return, though Cullen sorely hoped the criminal would run out of energy long before then. That man wasn't worth bloodying anyone's blade.

He returned to his room to tackle the paperwork that had piled up in his absence, sending a scout out to fetch him something to eat. It would be a long evening.


	13. Pear Slices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thank you to leon for being my beta for this chapter.  
> warning for a bondage sex scene towards the end of the chapter.

Two baths may have been a touch excessive for one day, though it had been one long day with very little sleep. Two baths was usually considered to be one too many for most people, though Dorian was most certainly not most people. Two baths could be considered a sign of nobility, of privilege, and Dorian did fit into that bracket quite nicely at times. Even situated as he was now, it was often encouraged of him to make use of the Pavus Household's private bath, though that one was larger still as it was meant to accommodate a larger group of people and maintained running water.

Sitting in a stagnant tub, where the water had to be poured in manually, was within itself a lot of work. In comparison to the public baths that Skyhold contained, however, Dorian quickly thought it a worthwhile endeavour. He was grateful this bath only involved washing away dirt and grime and no caddy whispers over his shoulders as others gossiped about him or his home land. His lack of presence didn't stop them from doing this of course, but it at least saved him from hearing it. He soaked and shut his eyes, fairly certain he would have calluses from handling the sword as he had today.

He thought of turning Cullen down as he was already feeling overdue for some form of rest, but now he felt exhausted. And there was a headache aided only by the lack of caffeine in his system. Yes, he was definitely going to take the remainder of the day easy.

 _"You are all members of the Inquisition. To treat your fellow soldier, your peers, as you have is degrading not only to the Inquisition as a whole but to each individual present who remained idle."_ Cullen's tone had been harsh, and an anger burned in his eyes that really resembled that of a wild beast.

Dorian sunk further into the water, feeling the ache in his shoulders from the manner in which had had wielded the sword. It was not a day of practice that invited beginnings, though he assumed whatever event merited such a lecture likely happened in their short time apart.

He'd be foolish to ask for any more of the man's time for a least several days now, work loads were stretched and heavy. All of them were standing on their toes waiting for Trevelyan to launch them all into battle with Corypheus. The longer they waited now, the more anxious everyone would become.

Dorian worked a cloth across his skin, eyes closed as he imagined what might come after.

After was Tevinter, but before Tevinter would be goodbyes. He'd have to arrange a ship, organize which things he wanted carted across with him, and formulate some sort of plan of what to do when he returned. He'd face his father again certainly. His mother never provided much of an issue when it came to his pursuits unless they were in the public eye. Then all she cared about was his behaviour.

His hand bumped the coin that sat present against his chest. It still wasn't fair to anyone and he was inclined to continue believing that.

Whatever their relationship was, it hinged towards romantic on more than one occasion. Dorian could sense the faint lingerings of want, perhaps even need but Cullen was reluctant, and understandably. It didn't make for the most fortified arrangement.

With Bull, there would be struggles, but the more he came to knew about the man, the more those struggles seemed entirely conquerable. He'd just have to be more honest, more open and work away from the knee-jerk responses he was so habitually fond of when it came to the Iron Bull.

But if Bull had been with Cullen then perhaps there was a chance of a slight deviation from Dorian's preferred image of what a relationship should be to what it could be.

Haughty whispers of an elaborate affair were the only thing that remained to turn him away from such, but should it? He was already decidedly a deviant from the viewpoint of most. If it worked for them, then any negligence offered by others might be a blessing.

Not to mention Bull seemed already entirely on board with the idea. Dorian cursed him under his breath, indulging in thoughts of what could be.

The door swung open just as he was getting to the good part. He bolted up right in the tub, eyes trained on the intruder who was no one other than Josephine.

"Dorian!" She exclaimed in her own alarm, "My apologies, I did not know you were in here. I will… Will you be done soon?"

Dorian glanced about his own figure then touched his hair before giving a nod, "Yes. Though a moment or two of privacy may help."

"Right," Josephine gave a nod, "I will be waiting out here then. Oh! And nice necklace. Is that a… Fereldan coin?"

Dorian glanced down to it and looked it over a little more closely despite having scrubbed it mercilessly upon his first bath. He never really studied it until now, "Yes, I do believe so."

"Fascinating," she concluded with a look of intrigue. "I will leave you to the remainder of your bath then."

And the door closed. There was no point in lingering in the tub any longer than he already had, so he removed the plug and stepped out of the bath as it drained. Toweling off, he dressed and pulled the door open to signal that the bath was free and ready for use. Josephine bounced to her feet and made her way over.

"Before you go, there is one thing I've always wondered," Josephine seemed intent on keeping him a little longer.

The sparkle in her eyes was disarming, "Which is?"

"When you bathe, do you heat the water with magic? That certainly seems easier than waiting for it to heat in a pot. I can only ever get it so hot before it's cool again," she explained.

"Would you like me to heat your bath?" he asked after a moment of consideration.

Josephine's face brightened incredibly, "If you would be so kind."

He stayed longer to help Josephine fill and heat the bath which was more work that he had initially signed on for, but if it got him more graces with the Lady Ambassador then it certainly worked to his favour in the end.

Once she was content, he took his leave, settling on the absent Inquisitor's bed with a sigh. It was a good bed, easily fit for two and a lot closer than his own quarters remained to be, so whether by proximity or exhaustion, Dorian laid himself out across it and decided a nap was hardly out of the question for the time being.

 

"You never told him," Relinus's tone was far from accusatory in presenting the topic amongst their conversation. He had a wine glass in his hand, the chatter from the party was distant but present like a haze.

Dorian took a sip of his own as he pondered the statement, "What do you mean?"

"After he gave you that," Relinus reached out to touch the coin, "You could have told him then. Even when he brought up the relationship you're in already. He doesn't know whether it's okay or not."

"Should it be okay?" Dorian asked, wishing the wine wasn't just part of a dream, no matter how his senses consumed it. "I'm still processing whether I should just step out of the picture there."

"But you won't consider staying?" Relinus asked. "It’s clear they both favour your company in ways both entirely their own."

"I have things to do, I don't want to stand idle while others are shaping the world."

"You're here now," Relinus reminded him, the scape changing to Skyhold. They stood like ghosts on the grounds as others wandered around them going about their day. "You are an active part of shaping the world others will know tomorrow, whether you feel that you are or not."

Dorian drew in a breath, feeling entirely overdressed from the party they had been attending previously. "You enjoy giving me life advice in this form, don't you?"

"You do take words from this face to heart the most," the spirit smiled. "Regardless of what you choose, they will understand and they will offer you their support. They already have."

A handle turned and a door was pushed open. Dorian's eyes opened.

"Oh!" Josephine's voice rang in surprise, "You're still here."

He blinked bleary eyed at the ceiling, "Mm, so I am. Unintentionally."

He pushed himself up into a seated position on the bed. It was an incredibly comfortable bed. He would mourn the loss of it when it came to returning to his own bed later that night but for now, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got to his feet with a stretch.

"The Inquisitor has an incredibly comfortable bed," he added, as if to excuse the fact he had fallen asleep there. He wandered towards the stairs with a yawn as he tried to shake off the slumber. A cup of coffee would certainly help.

 

…

 

The coffee was brewing, the water filtered through slowly, creating a backdrop of sparse sound as he stared down the wooden duck he had posed at the end of the bed.

"You'll need a new home eventually," he spoke aloud to the inanimate object. "A loving caring home. I may not be able to bring you back with me."

The wooden duck stared ahead resolutely.

"For everything you remind me of, you may do more good for someone else. More positive reminders."

The duck remained determinedly still, offering no words of advice. 

"Just imagine how handsome you'd look sitting on top of someone’s bookshelf. Or on a desk," Dorian waved a hand. "You could spruce up any room."

The coffee finished filtering through, so he got to his feet to fetch the drink. When he returned to his seat, Cole was postured towards the wooden bird. Dorian nearly threw his drink. "Fasta vass! I thought you were more human now! How do you get in here without making a sound?"

Cole gave a small shrug, "I heard you were hurt so I came. Its lighter, not quite tangled in with the rest yet, though strands branch out and try to weave their way in. They're connected but separate. This can be healed easier than the rest."

"You shouldn't drink that," Cole added, just as Dorian was about to bring the coffee to his lips. "It's still hot. You'll scald your tongue."

Dorian returned the cup to its tray for the time being. "Which hurt are you drawn to today then?"

"You want to stay, but you also want to go. You can't make up your mind because the want pulls you in two different directions at the same time, making you stuck," Cole explained, picking the duck off the end table. "You should give him to Cullen. He'd like that, even if he doesn't know it yet."

"What about Bull?" Dorian asked as he looked the duck over between Cole's fingers.

Cole gave a thoughtful look. "You're worried you'll hurt him… But he reached out to you because he didn't want to see you hurting. His words sting - like poison you train the body to take. He's not good at love, but he wants to learn. He is learning. He wants to be better for you."

His fingers graced the side of the cup, feeling the heat come from its contents with threat to harm his skin. His touch was fleeting.

"You wonder if you did something wrong for him to go to The Iron Bull and not you," Cole continued after a moment. "But you don't see everything. He thinks he's marked. He can't love you like he wants to yet. He hasn't given himself permission. The Iron Bull wants to help him too. He wants to help you both."

"What will you do after Corypheus is defeated, Cole?" Dorian found himself asking, tapping the glass so the fleeting sensations of pain could ground him.

Cole’s eyes dropped to the duck, turning it over in his hands to have it face him. "I'm… not sure. I want to stay and help, if there's more helping to be had. Varric said I could come with him to Kirkwall - when he goes. He's not sure when that will be just yet. I might do that."

"What do you think you'll do while you’re there? If you go," Dorian asked out of curiosity.

"I'm not sure. He said there would be people to help." Cole didn't raise his head. "It could be overwhelming, but it might be… Good. I've never been on a boat before."

"As someone who has, allow me to tell you that the top deck is always the friendliest. I suspect Varric will agree," Dorian offered a small smile to offset what could otherwise be considered a warning.

"Your mother," Cole brought up suddenly. "You were never really close with her. Why was that?"

"More questions?" Dorian mused, "…I suspect it’s in part to due to how Tevinter classifies women. She _is_ all around the stronger mage when compared to my father, but she'll never hold a seat in the Magesterium. So despite knowing her my entire life, I've never had much opportunity to get to know her. My father was always the one who beckoned my attention."

"You'd like to get to know her though," Cole offered sympathetically.

Dorian gave a nod. "Were there ever be a situation to merit conversation between us that didn't involve her judging my every movement, yes."

There was a knock at the door, both heads turned towards it. The door pushed open, revealing a strikingly attractive blond man dressed in red and gold adorned fabric. The man paled at the sight of the spirit sitting on Dorian's bed, quickly fumbling with whatever he had planned to say.

"I wanted to… apologize about practice." Cullen’s eyes moved between the two, unsure what to make of such a casual situation between them. "If I had seen you sooner.. Or--Maker, I'm just sorry you had to be there for that."

"It's alright, Cullen," Dorian reassured him. "It was trying but insightful. I appreciate the invitation and cherish the experience, however trying."

Cullen looked winded from just saying what he had. "I'm… glad. Needless to say, if I invite you again, I'll ensure it's a much simpler session."

He gave them both a nod, excusing himself from the room he hadn't even set a foot inside of, shutting the door behind him.

"He wishes you hadn't been there to see that," Cole said softly once Cullen was certifiably gone.

Dorian simply sighed, getting to his feet to clean up his look in the mirror. "Cole, come here and leave that dreadful hat on the bed."

"I like my hat," He frowned.

"Yes, well for this, you need it off. You said you wanted to be handsome, yes?" He cast a look back to the boy.

Cole slowly pulled his hat off. "I asked if I could be handsome."

"Yes, well, I'm going to demonstrate some ways to achieve that. Come," Dorian gestured to Cole to come forward and the spirit did.

…

"So you're saying any personal records you know of are likely still in the temple?" Dorian inquired with the sentinel who joined them from the Arbor Wilds.

The elf gave a nod. "There are still some who chose to stay. They will likely guard what remains of the temple for as long as they are able."

Dorian gave a frustrated sigh as he ran a line through one option. "So there's no way I'll be getting any information that way. Not unless I wish to kill the last of your kind - which I don't, by the way. Are there any other temples? Archives? Maps?" He realized he was grasping at straws.

The sentinel paused, giving it some thought. "Your world has changed much, but if you bring me a map, there may be some I can direct you towards."

Dorian got to his feet, scrambling to fetch one and return so the sentinel could indicate where. There still remained a high chance that even if he were to find the locations of each, that it would pillaged or destroyed and if it was neither, than likely filled with some of the most skilled warriors of a time passed.

All options were far from preferred.

He watched the sentinel circle spots on the map, doing his best to record words said in a tongue ancient beyond his learnings.

"Slow down, slow down," Dorian exclaimed as he tried to jot everything down, "Or use common tongue. I'm still not _quite_ a master at Elven yet, let alone any ancient variation thereof."

"If you could travel the eluvians, it would be faster," The elf folded his arms.

Dorian sighed, "I am aware of that, yes. Unfortunately, it is not my form of expertise."

He looked over his notebook at the marked areas, tapping to one he found particularly odd, "That's Marothius. There's no ancient Elven temple there."

Or at the very least, none he knew.

The sentinel gave him a stern look, "I am just telling you what I know. Or knew."

"Right. Sorry," Dorian breathed [out]. "Thank you for doing this, by the way."

"You are welcome, Shemlen," The Sentinel mumbled, marking down more locations as he went.

…

There had been little warning, or rather, for the warning he had received it was hardly sufficient. He was too drawn into his book to pay much mind to the clamor around him. The past few days had been peaceful enough that Dorian took to wandering from place to place with a new book. His research had been conducted most thoroughly, though it yielded very few results as the application of such knowledge was due elsewhere. Skyhold just didn't have the resources he required, and any bans created between Orlais and Fereldan made it incredibly difficult to smuggle in the books he did desire to look into.

He could never understand why anyone would put a ban on books, even if it was unrelentlessly heretical in what it published. Books that did brandish the label of ‘banned’ were all the more enticing to Dorian.

What wasn’t enticing was being lifted by lumbering layers of muscle and sweat with only so much as a cheer of his name to prepare him. His focus was torn most brutally from the page completely against his will.

"Put me down, you oaf!" Dorian cried as he found himself held up in the air within two muscular arms. "I was reading!"

"Dorian!" Bull cheered, tossing the mage up so he could better his hold. It really just served to make Dorian feel more like a rag doll. "I've got something for you!"

"Great," He wheezed, clutching the book to his chest. "You couldn't tell me without picking me up and tossing me into the air first?"

"Loses some of the excitement that way," Bull grinned proudly. "Come on."

"You're carrying me," Dorian pointed out. "There's not much for me to _come on_ about."

Bull's grin switched in tone, earning a smack on the shoulder with the book Dorian held onto. "Pervert."

"Hey, you thought it too," Bull said defensively, carrying Dorian up the stairs with ease. "But I mean it. I got something for you. I really think you'll like it."

"You smell like dragon's breath," Dorian groaned. "I'm glad Trevelyan left me out of that one."

"It was hot," Bull chuckled with a low rumble, "Really _hot_. We got to figure out what it ate, then bait and kill it. It was so _satisfying!_ "

"You're not going to get me to pretend I'm a dragon so you can fuck me, are you?" Dorian grumbled in detestation as they made it to the door.

Bull just gave him a look of epiphany, "That's an idea."

"No."

A pleading look passed over his face.

" _No_." He accentuated his point. "If anyone is going to play pretend dragon, it'll be you. You have the horns."

"Yeah, but you could breathe fire!" Bull roared.

Dorian shook his head, "Not after last time, absolutely not."

There was a disappointed grumble, the door kicked shut as Bull lead Dorian to the bed. "Fine, no dragons this time, but I got something else that'll work. How do you feel about rope?"

"You mean rope bondage?" Dorian inquired, "I'm not entirely against it."

"You've done it a before?" Bull went about the room, collecting items from objects overturned.

Dorian gave a shrug, figuring whatever Bull had planned was indication that he best strip before his outfit had a new hole to patch. "A few times. Mostly wrists tied together or tied apart to something. Once, it had been an elaborate design with my arms bound behind my back. It had been the preference of my company at the time. He was an entirely selfish man."

"Never returned the favour?" Bull returned to the bed, setting the articles of rope down with small vials. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you get taken care of real good."

"And what have you in mind now?" Dorian hand removed most of clothing by this point, down to his last two articles which Bull was free to assist with should he choose.

He never moved to do so, watching instead as Dorian slid the remaining fabrics off his figure. "I'm thinking more like that last thing you described. You don't have bad shoulders, do you?"

"I'm insulted you'd even consider it. How else am I to wield my staff?" Dorian was impassive.

"Hey, better safe than sorry," Bull shrugged while lifting the rope. "Sit on the centre of the bed for me."

Dorian clambered across, "Do you want my arms forward or back?"

"Back," Bull started slinging it around him, practiced hands knotting and looping it around.

Dorian knew Bull saw the coin but he never commented on it. Instead, he worked the rope around it so it could sit securely without fear of it getting damaged during their activities. The design left Dorian practically immobilized. "Don't tell me, the present was your dick."

"And then some," Bull purred. "How's it feel?"

"Tight," Dorian admitted, "But I wear it well."

"You do," Bull agreed, oiling up with one of those vials. "How do you feel about blindfolds?"

"They're alright." He would have shrugged if he had the ability to. Bull shifted the weight on the bed, coming over to prep Dorian as well.

He was lifted from the bed and onto Bull's lap with ease, a digit pressing in without resistance. Dorian sighed as if this were all routine already, adjusting to the sensation of Bull's wide finger inside him as he worked him open. An amused rumble left the Qunari. "You're pretty relaxed. Have you been waiting for me?"

"Like the protagonist of one of Varric's smut novels," Dorian said with dry sarcasm.

It prompted a laugh from Bull and a second digit slipped in. "I don't think he's ever written about what we're about to do."

"And I pray he never does," Dorian's cheeks warmed. "What a disaster that would be."

"The Qunari took the 'Vint from behind," Bull narrated, "Hands trained to kill now trained for pleasure."

Dorian bit his bottom lip, letting a dry tone carry his voice, "That's awful."

"The 'Vint's backtalk was arousing, even in dismissal," Bull joked, pressing his mouth to Dorian's ear. "He'd have him five times before breakfast."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Dorian said. Amusement couldn't be kept from his face, though he tried. "Five times before breakfast and this doesn't count."

"We might not get much sleep," Bull assured him, massaging in a third finger.

"I'm alright with that."

His bindings were tugged, mouth pressed into a kiss. The fingers inside him pressed to illicit a response, earning a moan into the mouth of his capturer. He tried to push himself onto them and chase the feeling as they pulled away.

Disappointment regarded with more teasing, lips against his own curling moments before he felt a pinch on his nipples. The sensation smoothed out, rubbing the nubs of sensitive tissue until they hardened. The absent feeling was steadily replaced, stretching Dorian only slightly more than he had been before. He could do nothing to control the pace of it himself, entirely put at Bull's mercy, but that had been the point. It wasn't as if they'd never talked of the prospect before either, even if it had never been the most explicit of conversations.

Abrupt and fumbling seemed to not only be the way of the Inquisition, but also the nature of their relationship.

Even aroused and filled, Dorian still had enough sense to hope that Bull would let him keep some wits about them so they could have a proper discussion about things after all of this.

A grunt escaped him when he found himself face down on the bed, "Really? Are we going to do this like animals?"

"Primal animals," Bull's voice was low, "And from here, I can do this."

He lifted the binding around Dorian's back, raising him off the bed and putting pressure on his front. The rope pressed in across his chest and around his groin which was alarmingly more arousing that he could ever recall it being in previous. Bull filled him as deeply as possible, pushing out any train of thought.

Dorian shuddered around him, "P-point taken."

It had been slow going at first. Bull seemed to enjoy taking his time by playing with the bindings more than Dorian himself but that changed in time too. Bites and kisses left marks all over his skin with fingernail scratches and the inevitable bruising and chafing from the rope itself. His perfect skin was marred, and Bull knew that as much as Dorian felt. It was a silent defiance of everything he had been raised to believe and embrace. The Iron Bull was everything he was told he should never have because it would kill him.

Dorian stood today in a defiance of so many things he had been taught and it made him stronger.

While also visibly hard, Bull seemed intent on ignoring that awhile longer. Bindings were pulled to lift and lower him along Bull's cock, making him feel raw inside and out. For a while he had been stringing together curses but now he was just pathetic whimpers and pleas. He wanted release so badly that everything was on the verge of agony. Pleasure was steadily becoming a overcome by pain and none too gracefully.

Bull seemed to understand that at least. The bindings were worked off and Dorian was fucked into the mattress with limbs too stressed to put any effort into giving back. His limbs tingling with the sensation of blood returning to them, his head pounding as demands of the physical returned to overwhelm him. He didn't last long, groaning as he came. All the tension in his body [could find] was released with a sigh, completely spent in more ways than one.

Bull had pulled out to stroke himself off to completion. Another time when his body wasn't so full yet devoid of feeling he'd offer to help but for now, he could do nothing more than lie still and wait for strength to come back to him.

The large Qunari flopped down beside him after a moment with a sigh. "How you feeling?"

"I think you fucked the feeling out of me," Dorian confessed with no energy to spare on joking.

Bull laughed anyways. "Here."

An object was placed on Dorian's chest [regardless], and all he could do was turn his head to Bull. "What's this?"

"Split dragon tooth," Bull shrugged, "Whether or not you end up going back to Tevinter, I figured you might like it."

"Okay," Dorian drew out the word, "…You're not asking me to shove it up my ass so I assume there's more to it than that."

A laugh barked from Bull, causing the bed to shake, "Well, you could do that too and I probably wouldn't complain."

A silence stretched over them as Dorian waited for Bull to elaborate. He'd never seen the Iron Bull blush, though he appeared close to doing so in the moment.

"There's a thing. A Qunari thing since we don't do marriage like you humans, so uh…"

"Are you proposing to me?" Dorian's eyes widened.

"What?" Bull seemed caught off guard by the notion, "No, _no_. This is like… Ghg, you humans… Okay, see there are these stories. If you give your lover half of a dragon’s tooth then it’s like saying 'No matter where you are, I'm with you'."

"Like a lover's knot," Dorian mused, "Only this is far more extravagant, and large."

"A bit, yeah," Bull relaxed a little.

"I'm sure it will fit nicely on my belt," He looked down at the object and how it was crafted to be attached to something. He assumed it had been an intentional design on Bull's behalf. He was pulled closer abruptly, lips pressed to his temple with an affection Dorian hadn't encountered with intimacy before. "...Bull?"

He pulled away to look Dorian over with sentimentality. "How about we get some sleep before we go five times before breakfast."

"I think I need to," Dorian confessed, still feeling very much like a rag doll. "Goodnight Bull."

"Goodnight, Dorian."

…

His ass may have been a touch sore by the time he finally got down for breakfast. A statement to be corrected when he reached his little alcove of books and seated himself in his favourite chair.

He wince as he sat down, but it was manageable so long as he had no reason to move again.

"Dorian!" Trevelyan cheered as he made his way by, assumably on other business but one could never truly know. "Get ready, we're going to be heading out soon!"

"Where to?" He asked, really wishing he hadn't offered to take Bull up on those five times.

"Where? We're going to take out Corypheus. If you need any of your equipment upgraded, let me know now and I'll make sure it gets taken care of before we head out."

He found himself stunned into a silence.

"Dorian?"

"…Yes, right. My staff might require a quick look," He found himself getting back to his feet despite the ache in his backside. "Excuse me."

Trevelyan gave him a nod, carrying off on his own way.


	14. Flax Seed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a lot longer to get out than expected even though i finished the first draft ages ago. warning for end of game spoilers

There had been little time for preparation. Dorian realized that when he exited Skyhold's fortress and a saw the state of the sky. It was torn apart all over again, causing his heart to sink and his stomach to twist with unease. A new trial faced them and he couldn’t sure whether it’d be their last one way or another.

The faced off with the ancient Magister in a manner so unlike anything they had faced before, forcing any thought from his mind as survival and adrenaline was pushed in its place. Each time they thought they might perhaps succeed, they were met with yet another facet of combat. It was draining, and while battling at a distance did provide him some advantage, it was one short lived. He found himself struggling to stand after the fell of the dragon, he wasn’t sure how he was going to meet Corypheus’ end.

But they pressed on, making do with the few supplies they had on their person. Trevelyan did not shy from the fray at all, taunting Corypheus whenever possible and often being sent sprawling as a result. Dorian put his focus in fire magic as ice barely stilled the power before them.

When Corypheus finally fell, so did the earth that had risen up with him.

Dorian was lucky to have made it down in one piece, he half suspected he wouldn't though some injuries were sustained. He felt a sprain in his foot, or maybe it was his ankle. A cringe came over him as he attempted to stand, though he attempted ignoring it as he searched about for those of the Inquisition remaining in attendance.

It seemed as if rubble was the only thing to be seen. No bodies, no shapes, and a faint rise of dust from all the damage that had been done to the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

He limped through the debris, doing his best to keep an eye out for any resemblance of familiar face or form. He called out only to be caught by a cough instead having inhaled the chalky air.

He waved his hand in an attempt to dissipate though it achieved next to nothing.

“Over hear!” a voice proclaimed in the distance, and through the rubble appeared the Iron Bull. A hand fixed itself around Dorian’s waist as he was pulled steady and guided back to where Dorian could only assume the rest had gathered. They passed a frantic Cassandra who stopped Dorian but briefly to ask if he had seen the Inquisitor at all. His only response was a shake of his head before she carried on more determined than before.

There was a lingering unease as they awaited the outcome, hearing but varying distances of Cassandra’s cry for the man that had brought them this far. Worse was the thought that despite everything, Corypheus was still standing and whatever future they had fought for would soon come crumbling down like the temple which ruins they stood amongst.

It was a wash of relief over everyone once Trevelyan walked out of the rubble to stand as victor. Corypheus, while perhaps not dead, did not seem an active threat any longer which was enough to put their minds at ease and contemplate the every pressing what next.

It was a question that had been plaguing Dorian's mind for days if not months now. He danced around having to make a finite decision but now it seemed as if he had run that clock into over time.

Bull gave his hand a squeeze on the trek back, a silent reassurance. The topic remained unbreached by words even beyond their return to Skyhold where they faced praise from all. The compliments were near constant, and while Dorian was one to indulge, even he found it overwhelming. He could hardly imagine how everyone else was handling it. A simple stroll to have his injuries looked at resulted in the hug from a complete stranger. It was an alarming change from the cattiness he had come to expect from the Inquisition though not at all for the worse.

His time was eaten up entirely by people who wanted to know more about him, about what he did, about the battle with Corypheus. There had been a time where he didn’t think there would ever be any songs about him, now he feared he’d be unable to escape them if such were to be constructed.

He hadn't had the time to meet with anyone until the party later that evening, but by then he was eager to settle into a drink and slowly cast off the stresses of the day both good and bad. Still, stories were shared, fancy desserts consumed, and company was a constant. The Inquisitor was, unsurprisingly, the last to arrive at the party, but that seemed only fitting. He hardly stuck around long, passing a few words to everyone in the room before he snuck off for the night to his chamber. Cassandra had unceremoniously vanished as well but it wasn't as if Dorian had been intently keeping tabs. It was all merely a passing observation. He was far more invested in his drink and the resounding mix of emotions that permeated those he had spent the last stretch of time with. Company that he had seen through thick and thin as well as life and death with.

They were, in some regards, a bit like family and if he had the option, would be a most preferable family to the one he knew back home. He listened to Varric's stories of Kirkwall, one of which was elaborated on by Leliana, others of varying topics shared by Sera, commentary to each added by Cole. As things wound down, it was really just the Inner Circle that remained around a single table outside of those who had assumably left, to other activities or the Inquisition all together.

There was a bittersweet flavour to it all when the evening did finally come to an end. Varric insisted he stay for just one more game of Wicked Grace, it might be enough of a reason to coax Cullen back into playing again. Dorian couldn't bring himself to disagree.

One more game, he promised Varric it as much as he promised himself. It would be a good way to see everyone off, assuming those remaining would make a point to be in attendance.

He drew in a breath, tucked against Bull’s chest with a weight in his chest. Reassurances were spoke in a soft gentle tone, aided by kisses and other acts of affection. There was never an attempt to convince him to stay, only that Bull’s support remained regardless of the distance between them.

"You could come with me," Dorian murmured.

Bull pressed his lips to the corner of Dorian's mouth, "Not yet, Kadan. Maybe eventually."

…

"I can't believe you did it," Dorian was in disbelief at the group crowded around the table, “Not a soul is missing.”

"It wasn't easy, Sparkler," Varric sat forward in his seat, "Some of them took a bit of extra coaxing."

"It seemed only fair that we gave you a proper farewell since you're headed back to Tevinter so soon," Leliana explained, "Besides, Varric promised that I would get to be dealer. This gives the Commander a chance to bet a little more carefully."

"I just hope I haven't made a terrible mistake, Nightingale," Varric sighed.

Josephine leaned forward to give him a critical look, "Oh, you have."

"Great," Varric picked up his drink, "So a friendly reminder to everyone participating; don't bet what you don't have."

"Or you will sorely regret it," Leliana warned with a roguish smile.

"So long as I'm not losing everything to our Lady Ambassador again," Cullen had a pouch of coins settled between his hands which he held onto tightly. His gaze crossed the table, smiling only when his eyes caught Dorian's.

His chest tightened, lips curling briefly in response.

"We're sad to see you go," Trevelyan announced raising a pint, drawing Dorian’s attention immediately towards the man, "But know you'll accomplish great things."

A fluster of emotion came over him at the display. Everyone began raising their drinks, one by one to celebrate him with a cheer. Of all the unexpected events to occur in his lifetime, this was one he hadn’t even paused to consider. He raised his own pint in hand, quickly wiping away the tears that welled in the corner of his eyes.

Vivienne's presence at the table was honestly the most surprising to Dorian, though she too, had even raised her glass. When she noticed him looking, she rolled her eyes, "Oh please darling, even I'm not so heartless. I need to thank you for making my position all the more crucial after all."

"But you'll be betting," Dorian said in disbelief.

"Yes, though I do prefer horses. If I am to make an exception however, let it be this once," She posed herself as elegantly as ever before taking a sip of her drink which was wine, not ale.

"You better write, you snot," Sera leaned up over the table in an aggressive manner, "And not about politics! Actual stuff, like brandy in tiny ceramic mugs!"

"I don't believe I know anywhere in Tevinter that does anything remotely similar to that," Dorian gave it a moment of thought, "We've fancier drinks, of course."

"Don't care, probably magic," Sera stuck out her tongue briefly, "Tiny mug brandy tops it."

Dorian let out a disbelieving laugh, "Fine, if I find some, I'll invite you up to try it yourself. ..I'll even be your personal chaperone and if anyone, noble or not, so much looks at you funny, we can get the jump on them."

The blonde elf gave a pleased giggle, "Good. I like that."

"I can't believe how quickly this is all happening," Josephine fidgeted with her drink,  "Just the other day you made all those orders, which were unnecessary might I mention, and now I have to arrange a vessel for your voyage back so soon after Corypheus--"

Dorian raised a hand to quell her, “I’ve already taken care of making the necessary arrangements so lets not fret about that anymore for the evening, yes? Its rare that we all find ourselves seated together like this."

“You could certainly say that again,” Cassandra scoffed with a grin that cropped up shortly after, “And no one’s made any death threats.”

“Seeker, coming from you that’s really saying something,” Varric chuckled.

“Do not push your luck, Varric,” She warned, earning a laugh from Leliana.

“The night is still young, shall I deal everyone in?”

…

Leliana pulled in most of the victories around the table, though there was little doubt in expecting anything less from their Spymaster. The most commendable surprise was how easily Leliana managed to get their Lady Ambassador ruffled. Three drinks in and Josephine was cursing Leliana out in an elaborate display of Antivan linguistics that very few at the table could follow, met only by a jolly laugh from the former bard who remained on the receiving end.

Cullen may not have won back his dignity, but he certainly didn’t lose any as he remained more reserved and tact. As a sort of cruel twist of fate, Josephine got a taste for what he had experienced the game prior as she was insistent on besting the Inquisition’s Spymaster.

The table began dividing when Blackwall offered up his tunic of Josephine to wear. As grand a game as Wicked Stripping would be, Dorian wished to maintain some of his own dignity before setting off.

“I expect letters from each of you,” He gave a critical look to each person present around the table all in good nature, “No pawning off to Josephine to write them for you.”

“Well, not without a bribe at least,” She teased, even while sitting in the frumpy oversized tunic, “I am very fond of chocolate.”

“What if we don’t have time to write?” Cassandra folded her arms over the table, “Some of us have new order to bring.”

“Exempt,” Dorian assured her, “Though, if the opportunity arises, I’d appreciate hearing from you.”  
Cassandra gave an acknowledging nod.

“My writing isn’t always the tidiest,” Cole expressed timidly, “The words like to wander across the page.”

“I’ll help you out with that, Kid,” Varric assured him.

Dorian released a sigh, “That settles that then. Does anyone else have any other concerns they’d prefer addressed now while I’m still here?”

“Yeah!” Sera stood up, “Who came out on top in that chess thing? You and the Commander played a bunch, right?”

Cullen shyly raised his hand, “I did.”

“What was the final score?” Bull spoke up for what seemed like the first time all evening.

“Nine to seven,” Dorian clarified, admiring the way Bull’s intrigue was sparked and expressed.

“Very impressive, Commander,” Leliana boasted, “Perhaps we should hold a tournament to find you a worthy replacement.”

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” he fumbled over his words, “We’ll be busier now more than ever with Corypheus out of the picture.”

“Curly,” Varric shook his head, “Hobbies and distractions are something you could use a lot more of. Trust me.”

“What did I say about habit forming?” Dorian teased him lightly from across the table, “If you’ve need for someone to fill in, I’m sure The Iron Bull could keep you on your toes.”

“Amongst other things,” Cole added in a helpful tone.

Dorian continued on as if he hadn’t heard the spirit and very much hoped the same for everyone else at the table, “It’ll be good for you, I’m sure.”

“Might actually be refreshing to play with a chess board for once,” Bull added in a comment that seemed directed more to himself than anyone present.

“If you require a partner, Commander, I’m certain there are many who would be happy to entertain you in a match,” Cassandra offered with a smile.

Trevelyan raised his glass before drinking from it, “Myself for one.”

“Thank you,” He gave a small smile, bashful at all the attention focused in on him.

Dorian took a moment to indulge in a thought. How nice it might be to reach across the table and hold the reserved man’s hand in a display of public affection. It was a flicker of possibility and yearning, one that Dorian never really knew he desired up until that moment, but he remained still and did not act rashly.

The group slowly dissembled, determining the night to be at its end. Some conversation lingered between couples as they departed though Dorian listened to none as he rose to his feet. Bold arms wrapped around him, pulling him against a bolder figure as his chin was tipped up into a kiss. Had they not just slain a self proclaimed god, Dorian might have been a little more averse to the display but given all that had happened, he deserved this and he deserved to indulge in it.

He leaned up into the kiss and grabbed Bull by the horns, keeping them locked while the world decided whether or not it wished to watch on. A cheer from the corner lead him to believe the majority did, or at the very least Bull’s Chargers did.

Blackwall’s voice followed as the hooting died down a little “Well, that’s certainly one way to confirm the rumors.”

“Custard! Go get a room,” Sera heckled.

Dorian pulled himself from the kiss on that note, “That’s the plan. Prying eyes need not follow.”

There was a holler and a hoot from across the tavern floor, "Yeah Chief!"

"Give him a good banging!"  Rocky's voice carried over.

Dorian felt his face redden as he took that as their cue to depart, "Shall we?"

Bull was grinning, pulling him into one more kiss before tossing the mage up over his shoulder so he could proudly pat Dorian's bottom while he carrying him off.

The day concluded the way just about anyone could have expected at that point, with plenty of vigorous sex.

"I can't believe I have to pack tomorrow," Dorian grumbled, feeling as if every bone in his body had been yet again turned to jelly.

Bull wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist, fitting them comfortably together despite the weight in their limbs and hearts, "Yeah…"

He forced himself to shift and turn towards the Iron Bull, "You could help - not with the packing but… Since I'll be gone, I don't expect you to stay abstinent. Whether it’s just flings or something more with the Commander, as strange as it is for me to say--"

Bull pressed a finger to his lips, "Kadan. You and me? We're good. Regardless of time or distance. I'll make sure to write."

"…Thank you," He sighed.

“You’re welcome,” Bull words held a sincere weight, dragging down a silence to blanket them.

Dorian shut his eyes and just focused on breathing, reminding himself that the silence couldn’t drown him though his mind was swimming in so much that he wanted to say.

Where did he even think to begin? His potential future with Bull was so predominantly unexplainable and unlike anything he could have expected. While it was hardly his intention, he had developed feelings for the man in so many manners and forms. He had grown to enjoy that uniquely muscular physique and otherwise unattractive musk he wore no matter where he went. He enjoyed that brashness and unflattering charm. It made him wonder what might happen if he were to stay and pursue what it was they had whole heartedly.

"You'd be good for him," Bull spoke in a way indicative of his own train of thought, "But he's not ready for that. I was sort of hoping I could warm him up for you, but I'm glad we got to have something too."

"The Iron Bull is capable of emotional sap after all," Dorian teased, "And here I thought it was all just cornball."

"I'm that too," Bull scrapped his stubble against Dorian's cheek, "But right now sap is exactly what you need. Lots of sticky stringy sap. Sometimes it comes out in other forms."

"Are you referring the kind that dries to my skin?" Dorian laughed, "Because I am going to have to bathe again thank to you."

"Hey, I tried to get all of it," Bull smirked, "It wouldn't be a proper send off if I didn't give you a little bit extra for the road."

"You better hope that little bit lasts," He huffed, "Unless that happens to all be a part of your grand plan. ...You're making me question this decision all over again."

"Go," Bull kissed him again, "You've already made the arrangements. You change your mind at any point, everyone here would be happy to have you back."

"For once, I actually believe that," He breathed out a sigh, "..Thank you, amatus."

Bull's finger slipped along the chord that held Cullen's coin, "Anytime, Kadan."

...

Dorian spent the following day making final arrangements and packing up the things he thought to bring back with him on his trek. Other things he packed up to be placed in storage unwilling to entirely part with it, but not quite designating it important enough to bring back with him to Tevinter.

Another box was filled with things that he had particular recipients for in mind. Ink sets, spare pieces of parchment, a book on the Black Divine… He know it was perhaps the slightest bit devious of him to offer such to the new Divine but he hoped she would find as much humor in it as well as any insight. He took some time to hand out each as a final way of offering a more personal farewell to everyone who had made his time with the Inquisition slightly more pleasant.

It also provided him some control over where everything went rather than pondering it restlessly at night.

  
"Since you seem so eager to learn," Dorian handed off the travel sized chess board to Blackwall, "Perhaps you'll provide me a greater challenge next time."

Blackwall scoffed as he accepted the gift, "Still riding that high horse around. You'd best prepared to get knocked off it eventually."

"Well, I have to make it appealing in order to motivate you, don't I?" Dorian smiled, “Besides, I’m no champion of chess. Not yet at least.”

There was a chuckle from the man while he turned the board over in his hands, “Sounds like you’re the one that could use more practice in that case.”

“Not as much as you, assuredly,” Dorian taunted in a friendly manner.

“Watch it,” Blackwall’s tone edged on defensive, though the small smirk on his face indicated otherwise, “No one likes a smart mouth.”

“I think it should be evident that such a statement is hardly true,” He bowed his head in display, “People absolutely adore me, perhaps now more than ever.”

A laugh came out of the bearlike man, “Fine, you’ve made your point. Still, might do you well to hold that tongue of yours from time to time.”

“And deprive the people of my beautiful voice?” Dorian said disbelieving, “Perish the thought.”

“However will we get on without you?” Blackwall shook his head, tucking the board under his arm and leaning forward to pat Dorian on the back, “Don’t get into too much trouble on your own. Wouldn’t want to have to bail you out of anything more serious than… What do you Tevinter types even do that’s low key?”

“Nothing, unfortunately,” He joked, “Everything we do is overly complex and elaborate if you’re not afraid of getting noticed.”

“Right,” Blackwall chuckled, giving him a brief but firm hug before pulling away, “Try keeping some reservation for the bottle then at least. I fully expect a rematch some day, can’t have you giving me a handicap when it’s hardly needed."

"Is that what I’ll be getting you?" He mused with some humor, "Perhaps I could introduce you to a razor instead. Show you how to tame that beast hanging off your face."

It earned a gruff laugh, "I wouldn't count too much on that one. It’ll be a long time before I take a razor anywhere near my face."

“You never know, it might make you look more your age,” Dorian offered with a smirk.

“Might be worth doing your own artistic impression at this point then,” Blackwall gave him a stern stare, “The beard isn’t going anywhere any time soon. If it does, I’ll be certain to let you know.”

“If there were any other reason to trek across Thedas, you without a beard would certainly top my list.”

Blackwall chuckled, shaking his head, “Your priorities are unusual ones, Dorian, I’ll give you that.”

“But priorities no less,” Dorian grinned, “Don’t hesitate to write regardless of whether you’ve a beard or not.”

“I’ll make it a habit,” Blackwall promised with a nod, “Hope to be seeing you again.”

“Likewise, take care until then,” Dorian stepped back, offering a small wave over top the box he carried.

“Safe travels.”

He trekked from one post to the next on his list of deliveries. Only one item remained then he was off to deliver himself back to Tevinter for better or worse.

Worst case scenario, he would be received ill by his parents, partitioned to be wed once again and uncover nothing despite the potential leads he held in uncovering Thedas’s potentially lost history to change his homeland. Best case, he found so much that the aid of the Inquisition was required in order to fully comprehend what it was that he had uncovered.

Idle thoughts. Most likely, he’d land somewhere in between and struggle the entire way through it.

He knocked on a heavy wooden door and waited to hear a voice of acknowledgement on the other side before proceeding through.

"A parting gift," He announced, "Since you've already given me one." The wooden duck was pulled from the box he had been carrying around though without the duck to occupy it, the box was now officially empty.

Cullen accepted the item with a curious expression that transformed into a miraculous smile  before he spoke, "So this is what you were talking about."

"Well, he is in need of a new home," Dorian tried to remain reserved despite the overwhelming urge to compliment the other man, "And I won't be around to look after him, nor can I guarantee he'll make it safely on the trip so I thought… What better company kept while I'm away?"

Cullen gave him a skeptical look though his smile remained, "Not Bull?"

"Well, Bull's had the pleasure of my ass so while not entirely comparable..." Dorian joked, "He's had quite the parting gift."

The Commander's cheeks flushed as his gaze fell from Dorian's face to the duck in his hands, "Ah… I'll be sure to give him a good home then."

He turned the wooden duck around within his gloved hands before striding towards his bookshelves to set the duck on top, "There. Now it will be as if you never left."

Dorian moved about the office to get a better perspective of the duck in its new home, "Always surrounded by books."

There was something entirely charming about that, and it remained entirely visible from Cullen's desk.

"Right," He set the box down, "I should get going then. I hope it's not too much to ask that you bring this back to the kitchen for me, though honestly, I'm sure it would be fine anywhere. It's not as if they needed this box back."

"I'll take care of it, Dorian. Don't worry," Cullen offered sympathetically.

The Tevinter mage forced a small smile but found himself biting his bottom lip, "Thank you. …And if there was anyone I was worried about writing, I'll admit, it’s you. I hope to get at least one letter from you, even if it’s I'm terrible at writing these blasted things with nothing else attached."

"Dorian," He could sense Cullen had moved but Dorian wasn't about to make eye contact.

"I'm so dreadfully awful at goodbyes. Do you know what I said to Blackwall? I told him to trim his beard, rudely. I didn't actually mean that, his beard his surprisingly well kept."

"Dorian," Cullen repeated, closer this time. A weight fell on his shoulders and drew him closer, "Thank you for the duck. I'll write, even if it’s not the easiest thing for me."

"Just don't over think it and you'll be fine," Dorian ushered, returning the embrace hesitantly, "I'd actually much prefer to read your first drafts, spelling errors and all."

Cullen chuckled, "Will you highlight my mistakes in red ink?"

"You'd best believe I will," He found it easier to smile again, though he felt just as choked up about it, "Ex-templar or not, you've been a good friend Cullen. Thank you."

"I should be thanking you," Cullen said quietly, then more assuredly, "Thank you."

They remained static, tensing only to convey more emotion, before relaxing again. Dorian knew he'd have to pull apart eventually but for now it was nice to just linger in this. Who knew when he'd have the opportunity again.

"..I don't regret calling you Amatus," He spoke slowly so his words would come out as clearly as possible, "And if Bull is good for you, then I think the two of you are better off pursuing whatever it is you two have."

He pulled back, certain in both what he was saying and what he needed to do. His fingers clutched the obnoxiously large lining to Cullen's overcoat only to smooth it over, "Please do take care of yourself Cullen, even if that means missing the occasional response."

The Commander's head lowered slowly in a nod, the words digesting but heard.

He smiled despite himself, patting the side of Cullen's face, noting the difference in texture from Bull's stubble to his, "Good. I'd kiss you goodbye, but I fear you'd never want me to return if I did, so I'll take my leave before I indulge in anything truly foolish."  
"I'll be seeing you again, one way or another," Dorian promised as they pulled apart.

It felt better than any playful insult or spiteful promise. He turned on his heel and departed from the office down the stairs and back to the horse that had been loaded with his things up front before Cullen could offer any response.

Dorian didn’t think on it until he was already on the road with one assistant travelling at his side.  A few more of Dorian's personal items had been loaded up on the additional horse, and the rider was a scout to provide him company and guidance on his trek back to Tevinter. The slight sway provided by the horse, gave movement to his thoughts and despite his company the trip remained relatively quiet.

The first night they camped out and the second they had settled at an inn. By the third, he was aboard the ship that would take him back to Tevinter with but a short letter left with the scout that had been assisting him up until that point.

Small things were all he had been able to manage on the road as his concentration was mostly required to ensure his horse didn’t wander into the bush for a snack when they had a deadline to meet. Out on the sea, he was provided ample time to pen letters to each individual, including thoughts that he may have failed to express in his time back in Skyhold though none regretfully. He reflected, recording some in his messages to others and the rest in his own private journal. By the time he reached Minrathous, the lettering was already made into a habit despite whatever time it took to send and receive.

He returned with more than what he left with which was within itself something that made the setting feel surreal. He was home, but it didn’t feel like it.

The streets were the same, familiar in a way that dazzled his senses to walk through them again. None he passed gave Dorian so much as a thought or a second look, making the days prior, the defeat of an Ancient Magister feel as if it were a fevered dream.

He pulled his luggage along towards his final destination, knowing the only thing left to do was confront his father on topics both old and new and dance the same routine he'd been learning his entire life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this. i really didn't think this would become more than just something i'd write sparingly but it clearly became a lot more than that the longer i worked on it.  
> i'd like to offer a nice big thank you to leon for helping me edit these last few chapters and another big thanks to everyone for reading, leaving kudos and comments!  
> i'll be posting an epilogue soon, so stay tuned for that.


	15. Epilogue - Cranberry Muffins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, the final addition to today's oatmeal. i really wasn't expecting this to become half the length it resulted in being but i'm really pleased with myself for having seen it all the way through.  
> there was a moment within this chapter that really begged to be drawn for me but i haven't had the chance to clean it up quite yet. all the same, [[here's a preview]](http://inyourclosets.tumblr.com/post/126170063518/very-important-late-nightearly-morning-doodles) and hopefully i be able to get a finished version up in the very near future.  
> thank you everyone who has been reading and leaving comments and kudos! thank you leon for proof reading these last few chapters for me! there's still a few chapters i have left to write for grey area (that relate to this fic) but once that's done i'm on to a new written project, aka i probably won't be writing a sequel or any other complimentary pieces.  
> hope you all have a wonderful day!!

"I have a request for your scouts," Cullen introduced the topic with a letter which he presented the Inquisition's Spymaster, "It's not crucial for any ongoing business, but if it can be located at and tracked down, I would appreciate being informed."

She looked over the page then raised the gaze to the Commander's, "This is personal business then?"

He gave a small nod, hesitant that she might deny him pursuit, "I will have my people look into it as soon as possible. If it is anywhere within Fereldan or Orlais, we will know by the end of the week."

"Thank you," He lowered his head.

"No other business then?" She inquired lightly.

"Not presently. I'll send word if something comes up."

There was plenty to keep the Inquisition busy despite Corypheus' defeat. Nobles from all over requested favours, others offered threats and with new recruits joining almost daily, training exercises had to be adjusted and scheduled more strictly than before. Templars and ex-templars alike saw him as a source of inspiration, eating up his time between his usual routine of objectives. Evenings that were once restless stretches of time steadily became a source of relief.

The first evening after Dorian had left, Cullen sought the Iron Bull out. They talked over a few drinks and played a game of cards that had no bet set to keep it interesting. It had all been a leisure stroll.

The second night, it became evident that Bull had as firm a need as Cullen's own with varying specifics. They made coded plans in public and no one knew who the Iron Bull had spent that evening with.

The fifth night, they discussed what exactly was to come from all of this. It wasn't as if either of them could keep it secret forever and someone was bound to put them together which would likely result in a scandal if they didn't handle it properly. Cullen still wasn't certain what his feelings even were for the Qunari outside of the arrangement being beneficial for them both.

Somewhere along the way, it became habit. Control often ebbed from his hands to offer release from the day's stresses with marks left where no other soldier might see lest they catch without his gear. While Bull was often the one giving orders, he never felt like he was following them blindly. Bull let him make suggestions around each session, and if something happened that he didn't enjoy, they'd make adjustments or stop altogether.

There were days where the dynamic would switch and Bull would be the one reigned in and saddled. The control never slipped from his hands and Cullen always followed orders but it gave them both a chance to explore something else. Cullen didn't have to be careful about where he marked Bull because the man wore them proudly, revelling at others making wild guesses as to where they came from.

Cullen knew they'd have to say eventually.

Most surprising was how sentimental Bull could be. He never quite shied from intimacy no matter how much Cullen thought he would, and after any particularly intense rounds, Cullen always found himself cared for with a gentle touch, warm embrace and phrase he could never quite understand.

Bull was often gone before morning, but during the nights his company remained a pleasant constant. His breath was heavier than Cullen's when asleep, each inhale causing a vibration within his chest that never quite became a snore but a more pleasant rumble instead. It was a sound that often lulled the Commander back to sleep if he ever woke from things less than pleasant.

Before the week’s end, a merchant had been located with the item Cullen had gone to Leliana seeking. The merchant  selling had raised the price, claiming it had more value than he initially thought if the Inquisition was interested in it. Cullen took time to make negotiations with Josephine. A settlement needed to be reached over the purchase without making it any huge expense to the Inquisition itself. Josephine oversaw the remainder of the process, ensuring Cullen that it would be obtained strictly as a favour and not as an interest of the Inquisition as a whole.

He was stuck waiting again.

"You never made any personal requests?" Bull asked one evening after the arrangements had been made, "No soaps or sheets to suit your fancy?"

Cullen shook his head as he scanned the cards in his hand, "I once put in an order for wool socks but aside from that… Not really. The uniform was my choice. I think that was about as much freedom as I allowed myself."

"We'll have to work on that then," Bull chuckled as he placed down two cards to end his turn, "I know you're capable of it."

Cullen discarded a card from his hand, "I think it has a little to do with my templar training, honestly."

"Yeah, a lot of the person you are is a result of templar training," Bull agreed, discarding a card from his hand as well, "Not that that's a bad thing inherently."

Cullen chuckled as he placed two cards down, "But in my case..?"

"You've maybe seen a bit more shit than most," Bull gave him a small grin.

It wasn't the first time they had discussed it and Cullen didn't expect it to be the last. His templar training had done so much to help him but had also caused blocks in ways he had never considered. Bull was good at working those out like a knotted muscle. Applying pressure right where it was needed to create some form of release. Sometimes Cullen cried, other times he got angry but Bull never seemed bothered by whatever reaction it spurred.

It was an avenue Cullen didn't feel like pursuing tonight, something he expressed in folding his hand, "I think I'll head to bed before any more ex templars come knocking."

"Still persistent, huh?" Bull frowned a little as he gathered the deck.

The Commander shook his head, "Without fail."

"Think I got something that might help take your mind off that," The Qunari offered as he put the cards back into their casing.

They'd only officially been caught once and even then it had been easy enough to brush off and excuse. A recruit had come in while they had been making out against the bookshelf though Bull had been quick enough to stop and smooth enough to strong arm the situation. The recruit was undoubtedly a little more suspicious of the Iron Bull but not because an affair was expected between them.

Cullen let out a heavy sigh, feeling as if his head had been filled with lead while Bull laid down beside him. It was an odd comfort to have such large hands brushing through his hair, making a mess of the style he had carefully moulded it into. It wasn't until he was just about to fall asleep that Cullen realized this odd comfort might actually be considered love.

Three days passed without any word concerning his request and potential purchase. He hadn't even been informed of any changes concerning the matter until he walked into his office after making the usual rounds. On his desk was a small note and a box.

'It wasn't easy but if anyone deserves a favour, it's you. Complimentary of the Inquisition.' Signed Josephine Montilyet.

He opened the box to check its contents, picking up the amulet that remained inside and turning it over. He had no way of knowing whether this was the right thing to do, or if it was even his place but he couldn't simply ignore the way things had been left. He could hardly write a coherent letter on a regular basis, let alone utter three small words. Four, if he didn't stick with a contraction.

He sighed, setting the piece back in its box so he could take a seat. Just don't over think it and you'll be fine. He pressed ink to parchment and offered his sentiments as honestly as he could.

He spent nearly the entire day on it, and the next. Every spare moment he had was spent constructing one letter and when he did start to overthink, Bull pulled him away and took his mind off it.

It was nearly a week before he felt satisfied with everything he had written and prepared the letter as well as the box to be sent off to its next destination. He left the delivery in capable hands, certain that he'd know one way or another when it arrived.

His daily pile of mail and papers had at least one letter from Dorian every week. Cullen took to responding once at the end of the month, always admiring the way Dorian's letters featured quotes and direct references so Cullen could follow along even if he wasn't familiar with whatever given topic Dorian might be about. Some were descriptions of his day, segmented portions and events. Others were rants, and some were simply words he'd strung together for no other purpose than to sound nice. It was usually the highlight of Cullen's day whenever he received these letters.

Two weeks passed the package's expected delivery, the letters stopped coming.

His initial concerns were discarded. Must have gotten busy, likely doesn't have the time. The thought gnawed into him when the week following that held no response either.

"You're looking more antsy than usual," Bull pointed out one evening where even the sex hadn't done anything to unnerve Cullen. Symptoms of withdrawal and anxiety bled into fears out of his control. Bull guided his focus, "What's up?"

"I'm-…" He took a breath and shut his eyes, "I'm not sure. Have you been getting letters from Dorian?"

"Yeah," a large scarred hand cupped his face. A thumb traced the scar on Cullen's upper lip, "You haven't?"

Cullen shook his head, breathing a small sigh of relief, "I thought something might have happened."

"If it did, I'm sure a lot of us would be scrambling over there to figure out what," Bull reassured him.

Lips pressed again Cullen's brow, "…Did he seem angry at all?"

"In his letters?" Bull paused to think about it, "Nah, not that I could tell at least. Writing's not as easy to pick into for that type of stuff. A person's face can say a lot more but if Dorian's not writing then…" He gave a thought grunt, "Yeah, he's probably pissed. What did you send?"

Cullen shrunk against Bull, suddenly regretting his decision to act without consulting Dorian first. He should have known better.

"That bad, huh?" Bull drew him closer in an offer of comfort, "Don't think he really knows what he's doing either."

"I thought I knew what I was doing," Cullen confessed, feeling a bit like he was in need of a pity party, "But apparently not. I should know these things are outside my experience."

"Kadan," Bull breathed, "Sometimes you have to take risks to build that experience."

He was sluggish for the next few days. Bull's attempts at cheering him up became more and more elaborate though mostly staging himself as a centrepiece of desire. Cullen was caught by surprise initially but by the third day it was actually starting to work. He had been waiting on Cullen's bed posed with chocolates and flowers, dressed in nothing but lace (which Cullen couldn't decide was better or worse than the initial ribbon and collar). It earned a snort from the Commander, coaxing him into bed where the Qunari Mercenary spoiled him with treats and sex.

Dorian's silence still bothered him of course and each time he thought to compose a letter of apology, he was never pleased with the result.

Scrapped letter after scrapped letter, he thought it might be worth asking his fellow advisors if he might have some time off to apologize in person but that idea was discarded as quickly as it came to mind.

He resigned himself to feeling miserable about it, keeping to himself whenever possible. It caused more idle gossip than anything in recent memory. Each person who seemed to stop by his office seemed to pause at one point or another to ask if he was alright. He never had a proper answer for them besides simply dismissing it. Trevelyan even insisted he take a few days away from his work if it was running him ragged. It wasn't the work that was the issue however and for fear that it might make him seem less competent, he forced himself to work harder.

He took one morning for prayer, hoping that Andraste might guide him towards some way of resolving whatever tension had been caused despite the distance but even through reciting the Chant of Light, he floundered and found nothing. He indulged in old habits, hardening himself to his emotions so they would not rule him as they were. It proved his most productive day since the letters stopped coming. Expending no energy on thinking of what ifs and how he could possibly do better. He just had to accept that this was the way things were now and assume it for the best because of that.

The air about Skyhold seemed different that day. He assumed it had just a result of his changed outlook initially but as the day continued, there was a sort of nervousness about everyone he spoke too. Lingering unease that left the Commander confused, though he never thought to inquire about it.

He sat down to try his hand at another draft, one without over overthinking to be a pure apology. All he could hope was that Dorian would read it. He didn't want to obligate the other man to write him back if he suddenly no longer wished to.

He got half way through the second page when a knock interrupted him, "Hold on."

He was really hoping to get down all he wanted to without further interruptions for he might not be able to find this clarity again any time soon. A moment passed before the person outside his door knocked again.

"I'm in the middle of something," He called, "If it's urgent…."

Cullen released a sigh, resigning himself to the fact that his personal life was not a luxury afforded to someone in his position. The quill was set down and the paper was weighted. He rose to his feet, and pulled open the door while rubbing the back of his neck, "Most people just come in if it's really so pressing."

" _Most people_ don't have any manners if that's the case."

Cullen didn't need to look up to know whose feet he was staring at. He did, finding the words he had presently been putting to page trapped in his throat.

"Of all the arrogant displays I have ever seen with my own two eyes, yours most certainly takes the cake," Dorian started pushing his way in, "I was so shocked and annoyed that I thought there was no way I'd be able to make a proper response by mail. No, it warranted my physical presence to deliver what I intend to get across as clearly as possible. You've pulled me from my business, given me something I had planned on retrieving myself and jeopardized my family relations, so I might as well settle this personally. And before you can go off on some ill prepared apology, allow me to start. Firstly, you are utterly deplorable and I hate you."  
A finger pressed against Cullen's armour, leading him backwards to his desk, "If such was intended to impress me, you are sorely mistaken and should be utterly ashamed of yourself. Secondly, this is hardly the first item of importance you've handed me so I expect you take responsibility for the consequences of these actions."

Cullen's leg pressed against his desk, causing it to rock against his weight.

Dorian's eyes were intent, flickering like fire as he stared Cullen down, "No response? Should I continue to spell it out for you?"

"Depends what you're spelling out," He spoke slowly, a fondness trickling out with each word.

"I don't appreciate being toyed with, Commander," Dorian glowered, "And I most certainly do not appreciate being treated like a side dish. This is not some simple gesture to be tossing about with ease. You have to be wanting more and be willing to commit to that."

"I've thought about it," He straightened, no longer taking support from his lopsided desk, "I wouldn't have gone through all that effort without realizing the implications that might come with it, I just didn't expect you to come all the way back to Skyhold because of it."

"You gave me little option," Dorian sized up to him, "By including sentiments of open affection and expressed interest to explore those avenues, you've invited a lot more than just a letter in response. I gave you plenty of time to act on it sooner than that."

"You did," Cullen agreed, bringing his hand up to brush over Dorian's cheek amazed that the man was even standing in front of his right now but touch assured him that this was real.

"And you expect me to let you off easily?" Dorian raised his brows but did not pull away from the touch.

Cullen shook his head, "Depending on your response, I was hoping to elaborate on things."

"Well, you've had your response," Arms folded across Dorian's chest, "What's your elaboration?"

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Dorian's in a chaste manner. It wasn't as elaborate or dramatic as he was hoping to achieve, he could only hope it got across what he was hoping to convey.

"The door is still open," Dorian reminded him as he pulled away.

"I know."

"This is what you want then? Is it really worth the scandal?"

"It's only scandal if we handle it like one," Cullen stated with a firmness, "I know what I've decided. I don't expect everyone to understand but if you're okay with this, then so am I. I've already spoken to Bull about it so if--"

Lips crashed against his, stunting any statement he had been in the process of making. Dorian's mouth always seemed far more skilled at conveying any emotion he sought to express, be it in the form of conversation or the intensity of a kiss. Cullen got swept up into it, learned how to indulge it without feel like he was crossing some boundary of what was and what should be.

He still undoubtedly had questions, plenty of which he wasn't certain he'd ever find answers for. His preferences remained though challenged to be reassessed. It might not have been considered graceful, but Cullen could hardly recall a time where he ever fit such a description anyways.

He grinned against Dorian's lips, slowly finding himself placed in the lead of how much, how long and where it would lead. Presenting Dorian with an ample amount of light pecks, he drew out the occasional kiss by indulging in manoeuvres the Iron Bull had shown him in their late night trysts.

They spun around, pinning Dorian to the desk as the kisses deepened. His hands pressed against the wood on either side of Dorian's hip. Cullen's face was the one that remained held, encouraging each lock of lips until the need for breath won out.

"You're going to have a very difficult time getting me to leave again," Dorian promised in a pant.

Cullen smirked just the slightest in response, "That was sort of the plan."

A chuckle escaped him, hair pushed back out of his face as he leaned further back against the desk. Tears trickled down Dorian's cheeks as he began to laugh, "You are a terrible man, Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I haven't even got a room anymore."

"I was hoping other arrangements could be made," Cullen offered with a hand.

A pitiful smile and scoff escaped the mage as he made the attempt to stand back up, "You may yet succeed with that."

The letter Cullen had been writing was scrapped one way and another as it was clawed through after dinner. Cullen took the time to have the relation made public under Josephine's counsel and direction having no idea how to approach it on his own without proclaiming it loudly to a room of potential strangers. The declaration, as quiet as it had been with Josephine directing it was met with varying degrees of alarm and congratulations. Trevelyan had been the first amongst them.

The soldiers under his command did make idle conversation of it from time to time. Some occasionally came to him with questions. It wasn't a topic he was used to answering for, not without stammering about himself in a fluster of uncertainty but that had changed to. He didn't shy from giving a response with confidence, and including only what he felt appropriate to share.

The biggest adjustment was returning to a bed preoccupied by two others at the end of each day. Working out how all three of them could possibly squeeze onto the surface without knocking another off proved an additional task within itself until Dorian made the stern recommendation he order a larger bed.

"This," Dorian exclaimed, settling on the fresh assembly of wood and mattress, "Is precisely what I was talking about. And you even fixed the roof while you were at it."

Cullen wiped the sweat from his brown, leaning against the wall to admire the changes he had helped make to the space, "It wasn't easy and I definitely didn't do it all by myself."

"Humble as always," Dorian smirked with a fondness that sparkled in his eyes, "Whatever effort you haven't expended putting this all together will surely be put to better use soon enough. …Where's Bull?"

Cullen glanced to the ladder, "Getting the sheets, and pillows if he can carry all of that up on his own."

"Could use your Tevinter mage crap to help out a little, Dorian," Bull grunted from below. The door slammed shut and the ladder creaked under whatever weight Bull carried with him.

Dorian got to his feet and made his way over, "You're already halfway up. If you brought it up sooner, I might actually have been of assistance."

Folded blankets and pillows appeared before Bull did. Rope tethered it all to his head and whatever he couldn't carry there had been strung around his back. He worked on untying it once he was standing on the solid wooden surface again, "You're stuck putting all this on then. The bed. I've got other plans if you're looking for something to wear."

"Always a genuine romantic," Dorian accepted the layers of fabric, tasked with the finishing touches.

Bull let out a sigh, taking a seat on a stool nearby, "Might want to think about putting a hammock in down there. Not very formal but a good alternative to climbing up this thing every night."

"Worried about potential spats?" Dorian inquired while attempting to wrestle the corners of the mattress.

Bull shook his head.

"Your knee?" Cullen asked, noticing the way Bull was presently massaging it.

"Yeah," He gave a nod, "And if your withdrawals ever worsen, might be easier for you to cool down."

Cullen gave a considerate nod.

Dorian grunted, "Some help with this would be nice! As certain as I am that you two are enjoying the show."

"Try getting down on all fours a little more," Bull advised with a smug grin, "I heard that helps with preventing injury."

"Oh, _ha ha_ ," Dorian responded sarcastically.

"We're just overseeing your safety," Cullen joked, "Can't undervalue the importance of….What was it you said?"

"Proper conduct and structural integrity," Dorian grumbled, "Fine. I deserve this, but don't blame me when this comes undone as a result of any overzealous bedroom behaviour."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"...And the Iron Bull," Dorian huffed, tucking in another corner, "Strikes again. Truly a man of astute tastes and humor."

Cullen chuckled, moving off the wall to help speed the process along by assisting Dorian with making the remainder of the bed. They collapsed once it was completed, joined by the Iron Bull so they could settle into a silent declaration of home.

"So," Bull proposed after a moment, "How about we break this thing in?"


End file.
